Gay Erotic Stories

The dark, richly paneled room was quiet at this time of the night. A few couples were scattered at tables throughout the lushly carpeted room. I sauntered up to the heavily polished bar and placed my order. The elderly bartender went to task preparing what turned out to be a fantastic martini. Taking a seat at the bar, I sipped at the concoction and gazed at my reflection in the smoked mirror, which ran the length of the bar. Damn, I was a good-looking son of a bitch! What was such a hot dude doing alone at a bar in New York City on a pleasant autumn evening? I resolved to finish my drink and find a warm body to share my bed. Nibbling on a tasty green olive, my attention was drawn back to the mirror, which now contained the image of another man entering the quiet lounge. A vague sense of recognition overwhelmed me. As he came up to stand at the bar, three stools separating us, I took a closer look at the stud. He was not particularly tall, maybe 5'8" or 5'9", but had the command of a much bigger man. His dark hair was buzzed close to the scalp on both sides, but grew out about an inch or so on top. Not a matinee idol, he was nonetheless a good-looking man, with full thick lips, squared jaw and dark impressive eyes. A host of fine freckles dotted his cheeks, softening his ruggedly masculine appearance. I watched inconspicuously as he extracted his wallet to pay for the long-neck beer the bartender had served up and observed his big working man's hands and thick, sexy fingers, a wedding band on the proper finger of his right hand. My cock jumped in the confines of my cotton underwear. As he took a swallow from the bottle, I watched his Adam's apple bob in his heavily corded neck and caught the sparkling of even, white teeth. He wore a uniform of some military ranking. I attempted to decipher the name etched across the pin attached to his expansive chest, but to no avail. The jacket covered what appeared to be broad shoulders and a strong, proud chest. His body angled down to narrow hips and flared thighs, to which the material of his military issue slacks clung. The folds of the jacket concealed his crotch and buttocks, but I was sure they were as intoxicating as the rest of this gorgeous stud. I wanted him as badly at that moment as I have ever wanted anything. Lifting the bottle to his sensuous lips again, he tilted back his head and took another long swallow, momentarily closing his eyes. When he reopened them he looked into the mirror and spotted me gazing at his reflection. Turning his head in my direction, he nodded. It was then, with him facing me head on, that my memory senses clicked in. "R-Rod?" I stammered. "Rod Tyler?" He appeared momentarily confused, his thick brow furrowing. "Yeah," he responded in a deep, resonant voice, "do we know each other?" "Sure do," I smiled. "We went to school together." He peered at me sharply, not making the connection. "High school?" he inquired. I shook my head quickly. "No. Eighth grade. I never graduated from Montgomery High. After the eighth grade I moved." Seeing that he still was not placing me, I added, "We were roommates on the Washington, D.C. field trip." That was all it took to unclog the memory block. His mouth opened in a gesture of astonishment and he gave me a quick once-over with those sexy brown eyes. "No way," he uttered. "Matt Anderson?" Beaming, I rose off my seat and thrust out my hand to him. "One and the same, buddy." Taking my hand in his for a powerful handshake, he continued to stare at me incredulously. "Holy shit, Matt! I never would have guessed! You were a skinny little tadpole in the eighth grade!" I took that to mean he liked what he saw. "I'm all grown up now," I replied pointedly. He invited me over to a table in the corner where we sat, ordered more drinks, and spent the better part of an hour catching up on the past twenty years. Upon graduating from high school, Rod had begun a life-long career in the Marines. Now stationed in California, he was in New York on a multi-state recruiting seminar. Looking across the table at the handsome hunk, I was ready to sign up for anything he offered. Everything about him exuded raw masculinity, which was a huge aphrodisiac to me. When questioned about my own career, I faltered. How could I tell this macho stud that I was employed as a high-priced male escort to middle-aged matrons? Instead, I opted for the safer title of public relations, which when I thought about it, wasn't too far off the track. The overhead lights dimmed, signaling closing time but I was not ready to part company with my former classmate just yet. Throwing caution to the wind, I invited him up to my room for a nightcap. Rod accepted. My room, more like a mini-suite, was several floors from the smaller room that Rod occupied during his stay. While I uncapped some beers from a tiny fridge under the wet bar, Rod excused himself to use the bathroom. Kicking off my shoes, I settled back in a comfortable chair and propped my stockinged feet up on the edge of the table, waiting for the hot Marine's return. He came out of the bathroom carrying his blue regulation blazer. The cuffs on his starched dress shirt were rolled to the elbow, exposing well-muscled hairy forearms. Tossing the jacket across the other chair, Rod retrieved his beer from the bar and then, to my surprise, slipped out of his patent dress shoes and stretched out on the big king-sized bed. Positioning pillows against the headboard, he sat back and took a long pull on his beer. Wiping the froth from his lips, he said, "You don't mind, do ya? It's been a long day." Fuck, no! This hot man was exactly where I wanted him to be. Now if only I could figure out how I would maneuver myself to join him. We chatted about a host of inconsequential subjects, discovering a mutual interest in football. I confessed I had attended every Super Bowl for the past ten years, failing to mention it was a running date with a wealthy closeted lesbian client whose family honestly believed she was my fiancée. One would think that after ten years some suspicion would have been aroused. Personally, I didn't care. I got to see the game in style and was well paid for the weekend. Rod quickly downed his beer and I served him another... then another... and yet another. He was quite the parched man, as I was still nursing my first. He told me of his marriage seven years ago to a civilian girl and boasted of his five-year-old son, whom he already had decided would follow in papa's footsteps serving our country. Reaching into his pocket, he rummaged through a leather wallet and extracted a snapshot, which he extended in my direction. Thankfully he was way out of reach requiring me to rise from my chair and walk over to where he lounged. And, while I was there taking a look at the happy family, I tossed a pillow up against the headboard and made myself comfortable next to him. The kid was cute, resembling the young Rod I had known from school, but the wife needed serious help. She was overweight, wore those funky Granny glasses on the edge of her nose, and had brutally brittle, peroxide-colored teased hair. I wisely refrained from sharing my thoughts with this man, but wondered what a hot hunk like him was doing with such a mousy broad. Rod got up to help himself to another brew. His unsteady gait clued me in to the fact that he was getting a little stewed. Twisting the cap off the bottle, he set it down on the counter and reached to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. I watched, careful to avoid drooling, while he removed the shirt, picked up his beer and returned to my bed. Casting me a crooked smile, he said, "Getting a little hot in here." Boy, he wasn't shitting! My trained meat was doing a dance inside my pants and I was praying that he wouldn’t notice. He wore one of those Fruit of the Loom T-shirts with short sleeves, unlike me in my Calvin Klein tank top. The material clung to his manly body, revealing the rise of twin pecs, the points of jutting nipples and the flatness of his belly. Big, muscled smooth biceps bulged out of the sleeves of his T-shirt, muscles developed from years of basic training. I longed to trace the thick vein, which ran down over his heavy biceps with my eager fingers. As he once again put the bottle to his mouth I observed how his thick, full lips circled the bottle to lustily partake of the intoxicating liquor, and I feverishly desired those lips to do the same to my aching cock. After finishing his beer and some more conversation, which was getting difficult for me at this point with the beefy distraction at my side, Rod decided to call it a night. Slightly disappointed, I watched as tried to get up but the beers and fatigue of the day had caught up with the guy and he sat back down on the edge of the bed. Rubbing his big hands through the bristle on his head, he laughed nervously and cast me a sideways glance. "Don't think I'm gonna make it to the elevator. What was in them beers?" "Dude," I responded, "the way you were downing them it was bound to sneak up on you." Shaking his head as if to revive himself, he gave me a sheepish look. "Mind if I camp out here tonight?" Did I fucking mind?!?! Fuck no, I didn't fucking mind! A hot fucking straight Marine ex-school chum whose defenses were left weakened by too many brewskies sharing my bed was absolutely no problem! The fucker would probably pass out in no time, leaving me to take a peek at what those pleated trousers held in storage. And, if he was really out cold, I might engage in a little playtime. The big hunk slowly bent down and removed his socks, one by one, casually dropping them to the floor at his bedside. With his wide back to me, I watched as his hands fumbled with the front of his pants, obviously attempting to undo the fly. I considered offering my assistance but opted to curb my eagerness. Eventually I heard the zipper release and salivated as he lifted his tight butt slightly to ease out of his slacks. True to his profession, Rod wore khaki-colored boxer shorts. As he hoisted his legs up and under the covers, I had a brief glimpse of beefy, muscular thighs. Swallowing hard, I watched as the gorgeous stud let his jarhead rest back on my fluffy white pillows. Flitting his big brown eyes over towards my sexually energized self, he practically whispered in his deep, husky tone, "Aren't you gonna shut off the lights?" "Sure, buddy, anything you want," I said as suggestively as I dared. Reaching out, I flicked the main switch above the headrest, which extinguished the light bulbs. Having failed to draw the heavy blinds over the tall glass-paned windows, the moonglow cast its romantic beams across the room. In the semi-light I could easily make out Rod's prone form as his breathing grew heavier, signaling his descent into sleep. As quietly as possible I removed my outer clothing and tank top and then, on impulse, hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my briefs and pulled them off. Stark naked, I slid my sculpted body under the covers and situated myself as close to the sleeping Marine as I dared. My thigh made contact with his and I froze, fearful that he might awaken, but he remained still. I inhaled deeply and allowed the musky scent of his masculine form to permeate my senses. How I longed to reach out and run a hand under his T-shirt, to tease his fleshy nipples, to cuddle up close to the macho stud and share the warmth of his hunky ody. "Remember that night in DC?" he said into the darkness, startling me. Having assumed Rod was asleep I jumped reflexively. He appeared not to have noticed. Hell, with all the booze in him the whole room must have felt like it was moving. "You and me and the Jimmys," he continued. "Yeah," I managed. "How could I forget? My first time." "Yeah," he sounded as though he were smiling. "Sure would like to relive that time." He was referring, of course, to the nocturnal masturbatory session to which I had been introduced during our eighth-grade Washington field trip, me in bed with one of the Jimmys; Rod in bed with the other; young hands flailing up and down on each other's meat until we erupted in orgasm (me for my first time). We had carefully avoided this subject all evening. Now, lying shoulder to shoulder beside me in my hotel bed, the desirable hunk chose to reminisce on that seemingly forbidden topic. His last statement certainly seemed like an invitation to me. Resting on one elbow, I rose and turned to face him. My other arm lifted the bed covers away from our bodies and reached down to touch the fabric of his boxers. Finding the bulge buried under his drawers, I grasped it in the palm of my hand and lightly squeezed his cock and balls through the starchy material. "Oh, yeah, Matt," he moaned huskily. "I've been away from home for too long. Help me out, old buddy. Jerk me off." His hips were grinding against the mattress and the bulge was beginning to harden in my grasp. Rising, I reached over with both hands, took hold of the elastic band on his boxers, and pulled them down his thick, hairy thighs, tossing them over my shoulder into the darkness. Placing a hand on each of his legs, I caressed the outside of his muscular calves, working my way up past his kneecaps and then kneaded those strong man-thighs. I fanned my talented hands out around his pelvis, digging my long fingers into his thick pubic bush. Grasping the base of his now-hard penis, I traveled up the length of him. The Marine was writhing on the bed, his hips doing a wild salsa, arms back behind his head, hands frantically grasping at the pillows. I squeezed his man-cock, feeling the loose velvety skin stretch along the blood-engorged rod as I inspected him. His penis was no more than six inches long, but what he lacked in length was more than made up for in girth. My hand could not wrap around the width of his stalk and the fat, bulbous cockhead must have been at least seven inches around! With my free hand I reached down and took hold of his big bull's balls, pulling them down between his spread thighs. This caused his cock to stand up straight and proud. I spat a healthy glob down onto his meat and began to frig him in a constant up and down motion. The way he reacted led me to believe it had been more than a while since he'd last had any attention. He thrust his hips upwards, trying to fuck my jerking hand, all the while moaning encouraging words. "That's the way, Matt. Just like that. Jerk my beefstick. Come on, man. Make me feel good. Don't stop. I want ya to make me cum. Wanna cum all over. Don't let a buddy down. Stroke that fat cock." He was all mine, I knew, like putty in my hands. There was nothing I couldn't do with him now. All my years of experience had taught me when the ultimate power was mine, and this was that moment with Rod. The only remaining question was how I would use him to my personal sexual gratification. Kneeling between his spread thighs, I moved forward until my hard cock was against his and, wrapping both hands around them, I jerked both our dicks together. Rod's bucking hips caused his leaking cock to rub up and down the length of my bigger shaft, sending volts of pleasure through my organ. Thick pre-cum flowed from my cockhead combining with Rod's abundant flow to create a slick dick-fuck. "Damn, Jimmy was right," he panted. "You have a big fuckin’ cock!" Leaning over until my face was within inches of his, I boasted, "Eight-and-a-half, Stud!" With that I flicked out my tongue and touched it to his puffy lips. His head rolled from side to side, attempting to avoid me. Straight men don't kiss, your ass! I pursued, finally trapping his mouth and diving my tongue into his hot oral cavity. At first unreceptive, he quickly warmed to the kiss. As our tongues sloshed around in each other's mouths I felt, rather than heard, the low roaring groan of ecstasy which started deep in his chest and reverberated through his vocal chords. His fingers ran through my silky hair, holding my face closer and we sucked face like men possessed. I would swear that the man had never been French kissed before and was totally enjoying his first outing. His hips ground madly, forcing our cocks to ride together in my pre-cum-drenched hands. The fat knob of his shorter prick rubbed along the length of my stiff meat. The guy had me lust crazed! I went into overdrive, devouring his lower lip and then sucking his chin into my mouth. I dove for his bobbing Adam's apple and planted wet, sloppy kisses along his strong neck. I rubbed the side of my face against his, the bristle of our day's growth of beard a reminder that man was pleasuring man, and then I attacked his exposed ear. Sucking on the fleshy ear lobe, I darted my tongue in the canal, breathing heavily all the while. This seemed to drive him over the edge. His body squirmed so frantically beneath mine that I feared he might buck me off. Releasing my grasp on our cocks, I leaned heavily into his groin, continually mashing our pricks together. Placing one hand on each side of him, I looked down into Rod's handsome face. Even through the moonlight I could see the look of unbridled lust in his eyes. Smiling lopsidedly, I zeroed in on the thin piece of material that separated our bodies: the T-shirt that clung to his sweaty chest. My hungry mouth found his hard nipple as I sucked on it through the cotton material. Moaning more wildly now and mashing his fat prick against mine, Rod arched his back as I chewed on his swollen nub. Wanting him totally nude, I slid my hands under the T-shirt, pulled it from his writhing body, and rubbed the palms of my hands over his hard, strong, hairless chest. Taking hold of his pecs I leaned in close and whispered into his face, "I want to suck your cock. Can I suck your cock, baby?" "FUCK YEAH!" he roared. Without a moment's hesitation I was down between his thighs, the musky scent of his sweaty crotch filling my nostrils. Spreading my jaws as far as possible, I took the huge head of his hot cock into my mouth and licked my tongue all over the crown, tasting his free-flowing pre-cum. He was moaning so fucking loud, his hips shoving more cock into my already stuffed mouth that I thought hotel security would soon be banging down our door. I swallowed the entire length of his wide prick and began a feverish cock sucking. Rod's rod seemed to expand even larger and his leaking faucet threatened to drown me. And then, just when I thought this hot Marine stud was under my command, events took a sudden turn. He ripped his slugger from my slurper, rose up on the bed and, flipping me over, pinned his hard body on top of mine. "I can't take it anymore," he panted huskily. "I've gotta fuck some pussy!" My answer was to raise my legs and plant them up over his wide shoulders. He was totally gone now, acting on impulse rather than logic. Spitting down into his palm, he rubbed it over his wide girth and then positioned that big cockhead at the doorway of my smooth asshole. This certainly was not my first time being fucked; he was not getting a man-cherry. But the thought of that huge thing piercing my hole caused me to take pause. It was a pause one beat too many. Before having a chance to utter a word of caution, he had slammed his meat into my shitter. I do believe that is when I first comprehended the expression "seeing stars." "OH, MAN!" he bellowed, "TIGHT FUCKIN' PUSSY!" And he began slamming his entire length in and out of my manhole. In his state of enraged libido I honestly don't think he knew (or cared) what (or who) he was fucking. He was all cock now. I considered reminding him that his big boy was ramming an asshole, not a pussy, and perhaps he should take it a little easier, but decided that I liked being battered by this stud. It was obvious he hadn't had any sexual release in quite some time and all that pent-up frustration was being released on lucky me. Gyrating my hips in small deliberate circular motions, I met his hard and swift thrusts. He was stretching my hole as few men before him had ever done. The tortured sphincter muscles relinquished their battle as my asshole relaxed and allowed him to pile drive me to his heart's (or perhaps I should say dick's) content. His big hands began massaging the insides of my raised thighs as he fucked my gaping hole, grunting like a sex-pig the whole while. His fucking was so fevered that droplets of sweat flicked over my prone torso as they fell from this heaving Marine's body. Lifting my shoulders from the mattress, I slapped my hands against the twin slabs of muscle that were his pecs and took hold of the painfully erect nipples. Twisting, turning and pulling on those nubs resulted in that wide slice of beef jackhammering into my hungry hole with renewed frenzy. The huge head plunged into my man's channel again and again, each thrust rougher than the last. I could swear the hot lieutenant was trying to fuck me to death! And then, all too quickly, his entire body tensed and his breathing came in short, heavy gasps. That fantastic fat cock withdrew from my bunghole and began spraying massive ropes of man-cum across my body. Load after load shot from his weapon, wetting my sweat-soaked body and even reaching so far as to coat my face. With one hand I scooped his hot cum from my torso and sucked it from my fingers. His jizz was thick, rich and tasty, as I knew it would be. While my hot friend went through the contortions of orgasm, I found myself losing control. With a few short strokes on my own meat, I came like Old Faithful. My load shot straight up, striking Rod's massive chest and raining down to merge with his own cum on my jerking body. I beat my meat until the last drop of semen was spent. Rod fell to my side and rested one big arm across his forehead as he stared up at the ceiling. "That was fantastic, Matt,” he finally said. "Where'd you learn to do that?" Chuckling inwardly, I replied, "The only importance is that twenty years ago you and the Jimmys taught me something brand new, and tonight was my chance to return the favor." He whistled, "Boy, did you ever!" We fell off to sleep shortly thereafter. I woke late the next day to an empty bed and dried cum caked over my nude body. Rising to go wash up, I spied the note attached to the mirror. Gingerly, I reached out and pulled the small piece of paper down. It read: "Matt, old buddy— “Was great seeing you again. You made my visit to New York extra special and a time I won't soon forget. It's great to know that while men like me are serving their country, there are men like you to serve us. Maybe we'll meet again in some other port. Sure hope so. “R" There was no need to seek him out in the hotel. His letter spelled out the finality of our reunion, at least for now. I, Matt, slipped into the shower stall to wash the scent of yet another man from my body, having known from the beginning that Rod would not be mine for keeps, but comforted by the thought that perhaps one day our paths would cross again.