Gay Erotic Stories

Blood-soaked and rain-drenched, Sage lay still on the city sidewalk. The triangular skyscrapers presently have a menacing white sheen. It reminded Sage of a story he had heard long ago—about a king that slept with daggers over his head. That is the problem of being so good at what you do, thought Sage. You are always threatened by people wanting to make names for them selves, all conspiring to rob you of what little reputation and power you have. The fall must have been at least fifty feet, the broken window and faint light looked small from below. He awaits the magic. The simple mending of broken bones and torn muscles that occur each time something like this happens. Sage feels his skin pushing the glass shards out. He feels his face reassembling again, his crushed nose and detached jaw returning to their classic beauty. He gains enough strength to completely turn himself on his repairing back. Someone once said that men have erections when they fall from high places. Sage looks down at his crotch. No erection to be seen—another myth, thought Sage. He sees the sky is just as broken as his limbs. The moon, that dominated the night sky for centuries, now had to compete with the eerie glow of Mars and Venus. Red, green, or white light bounced off the luminescent skyscrapers. This holiday night, Sage chooses red. It matches the rage stirring within him….. It is New Year’s Eve, 2089 A.D. Twenty-seven year old Sage dislikes the New Year’s Eve parties given by his former employer fifty-four year old Captain Chase (whom Sage used to know as Roland Chase). Although there were no military records stating his service as a captain, Chase had the bulk and domineering personality attributed to one. He was both hated and applauded by the booming gay community. Gay married couples despised Chase for unearthing antiquated stereotypes that they thought dissipated in the early 2020s. Chase always sent these couples invitations to his parties held at his five-story penthouse; to discuss politics further, he claimed. One innocent couple showed up, and has never left his company since. Others, especially the yellow-skinned gay youth arising from the mandatory eugenic experiments of the late 2060s, blindly followed Chase’s promise of a hedonistic paradise—especially since STDs dropped to a generous 5% infection rate. The New Year’s Eve parties were Chase’s signature. At one New Year’s Eve party, there was the “fun beams” which—every time it traced over each party guest—would evaporate their clothes and leave their multi-colored bodies exposed. At another party, he televised the entire event, and received a blow-job by a mustard-skinned partygoer while being interviewed. The interviewer was asking Chase’s opinion on current gay politics, but he was too busy coming into his fellatio partner’s yellow mouth.

When Chase called earlier that morning, Sage almost hung up. However, Chase talked fast and put the sum of $20,000,000 out on the table, if only Sage would attend a private meeting at his evening New Year’s Eve party. Sage actually didn’t need the money, but he longed for a formidable challenge. Besides, if Chase decided to try anything, he would have an excuse to rip his head off. He spent the day cleaning his condo. He polishes the different knives that decorate his hallway, thinking it best to bring some wooden knives for security tonight (if he breaks the handle, there will be no evidence) before pushing the hologram button. He cleans the guns stored underneath his levitating bed and kitchen table, deciding that bringing a sawed-off shotgun would be too risky. He went through a boxing and martial arts simulation program with his cyber-skin sparing partner (imagining Chase’s scruffy face). Sage’s svelte, though well-defined body, moving naked at lightning speed until his knuckles and feet ran with blood. His wounds began closing before he showered and dressed for the evening meeting. In the shower, he thought about masturbating—during the training, his bouncing cock grew hard as a rock. But it was a lonely act for him now, and though he longed for the company of another man, he always recalled his reasons why he remains alone (that bastard Chase). As he sheathed himself in layer after layer of thick cotton and leather, Sage began thinking of his turbulent past with Chase.

It was Roland Chase that rescued an orphaned Sage from the Regional Genocidal Organization’s decision to send him to the execution chamber. At the time, eighteen-year old Sage was considered too violent and fearsome to be considered for adulthood. A huge financial contributor, then, Roland Chase persuaded the board to enroll Sage in his rehabilitation program for newly-turned, eighteen-year-old men. This was before word got out about Chase’s private life and raunchy parties, so he was still a trusted member of the organization. The decision was overturned, and thus Sage was placed under his care. At the time, Sage did not realize how favored he was in Chase’s eyes. The program was a front designed to train young men into “servicing” guests at Chase’s parties—they learned the expertise of eating ass, being double-penetrated, and deep-throating. While the others were manipulated easily (their lives were spared after all), their “servicing” progress tested by Chase and his close associates on a weekly basis, he treaded more carefully with the easily enraged Sage. Roland Chase knew what genius stirred behind those big brown eyes, and against his better judgment, decided to train Sage as an assassin—to deal with his more unruly clients and colleagues. In short time, Sage had acquired a flawless and multi-faceted fighting technique, advancing so quickly that Chase had to hire sixty different teachers in a two-year period.

Chase should have been concerned, but he marveled at the dexterity Sage took in learning languages, subjects, and techniques. Chase wondered when it would be time to introduce Sage to his bed. He lusted after Sage from the beginning, wondering how a slender youth could look so frail but be so strong. He wanted to suck Sage’s plump virgin dick. He wanted to fuck Sage in the ass, and then have Sage suck his dirty cock after pulling out. He started laying plans for his seduction of Sage (even going so far as testing his plans on the nastiest young man from the latest program bunch), an act that he would later regret.

His thoughts interrupted by the early evening city traffic, Sage stood in front of the oval building that contained Chase’s penthouse. Despite its glitz, the building held no such excitement to Sage. Sage thought about turning back, but lately he had a secret longing to reunite with the man that originally mentored him. If Chase tried anything again, Sage would surely kill him with no conscience whatsoever. But he wanted to go back to the beginning. He wanted to feel challenged and unfamiliar with the world (even though it mysteriously felt familiar to begin with). He hoped that Chase could provide him with something new. So, with limbs at the ready, Sage makes his way into the building.