Gay Erotic Stories

It’s Mom and Dad, and their oldest boy, Ritchie living in the house together. My partner and I went to both of Ritchie’s younger brother’s weddings, real family affairs, and it was really open-minded of our neighbors to invite us.

I have to say, they are an attractive family. Mom is a perky redhead, and although I don’t notice women much, I can see she has a good figure. Dad is getting a little chunky, but you can see he was once very hot, indeed. His graying hair is cut in a hip, layered blowback, and he sports a moustache. His broad shoulders are covered in a little drift of silver-black hair that gets heavier as it spreads across his nicely bulked out chest. Despite his age, I love to watch him drag the hose across the lawn or climb a ladder in his cutoff shorts and tank top. His legs are still really toned; they ripple like a teenager’s as he squats down to pull weeds from his flowerbed . The two married boys are spitting images of Dad, with bodybuilder torsos and bulging biceps. They married equally attractive women, developed beer-bellies and are raising kids in New Jersey somewhere. For some reason, the eldest is left at home. I always had my suspicions; my “Gaydar” is usually very accurate. He looks as straight as can be, but I just know he’s gay. Why else is he still at home, and I never see a girlfriend? His stereo blares from his second floor window, his choice in music running from old disco, to freestyle, to Ricky Martin and Enrique Iglesias. How gay is that?

I often watch him from behind my blinds when he showers and changes in his room. His body is generously proportioned. Shoulder length, wavy medium brownish-red hair. About six feet tall, he is generously bulked-out on his frame. He wears his muscle well. An expansive, wide chest like his Dad’s, with a patch if his Mom’s red hair concentrated on his breastbone between two perfectly formed pectoral muscles. His nipples are rosy and also ringed by just a little red hair, in a fuzzy soft halo around each tit and his torso is defined by nice ripples, his abs rolling in waves of muscle to his belly. He has an “innie” belly button, partially obscured by more rusty hair that trails from there down to his pubic area. His skin usually reddish-tan from the beach, and is glowing white from his waist to his knees, where his trunks block the suns rays. The trail of red hair continues down the sturdy thighs, calves physically powerful from years of High-school sports.

And oh…his cock--the magnificence of his cock, I’m sure selective breeding has something to do with that cock. Such good-looking stock naturally sires champion studs! At least ten inches, crowned with a generous mound of strawberry red hair, a white and creamy shaft further highlighted with exquisite veins on its length, finishing in a rosy cap under a generous uncut hood. I often imagined what it would be like to experience this young man!

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I envision him approaching me in my dream, his thick, uncut dick bulging under his cotton boxers. As he approaches me he plays with his nipples and asks me to come closer. I move in front of him. He grabs my wrist and guides my hand under his waistband. His cock is damp and hard, and I squeeze it tightly in my grip. His big quarterback hand holds the back of my neck, leading me to his perfect tits. I begin to lick and suck one, then the other. Ritchie moans and whispers in my ear:

“Is this what you’ve been looking for in my bedroom window at night? It can be yours, if you want it. Thing is, I like to get blown. Are you ready to take my cum down your gay throat tonight?”

He continues to push my head downward, past his abs, past that beautiful belly button, to the fly of his boxers. His cock pushes through the material; it’s angry red helmet popping out of its foreskin. I take it into my hungry mouth and suck it far into my throat.

“Make me hard! I want to penetrate you. I want to slide down your throat. I want you to feel me in your guts.”

I pull his underpants down and slip them off his feet. He is standing in front of me with both hands on his head, flexing biceps popping, a big sly grin on his face, sweat dripping from his moist armpits and running down his sides to his hips. I take him back into my mouth with delight. He tastes bitter but pleasant, like orange peel. His cock is big, but I take it deep as he drives against the back of my throat. Ritchie’s disheveled hair falls in his eyes, and the wavy mane cascades down his neck in sweat soaked rings and dance on his shoulders. The little cross he wears in one ear sways back and forth as he rocks his groin against my face. I look up at him as I choke down his ten inches of flesh. He looks beautiful, like a Rembrandt painting, in the soft warm light in his bedroom.

“Fuck! Don’t stop! You goddam pussy, I’m gonna shoot! I’m cumming now.”

Ritchie suddenly pulls all ten inches out of my stretched out lips, my jaw sore and strained from his intense pumping. I continue to jerk him off, as his cock becomes swollen. The veins burst from the shiny skin tightly stretched over his stiff hard-on. He explodes in my face in repeated waves of creamy, thick cum. After the first few shots strike me in the eyes, I open my mouth and accept his ejaculation directly into the back of my gullet. The slimy, pungent bitter gel slips down my throat and his manhood warms my stomach.

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One night, it looked like everyone was out next door. I was alone, Bobby on a business trip abroad. I decided to get on the net, and find some visual stimulant. If I was to be alone tonight, I could at least be my own best friend, if you get my meaning. It was hot, so I left the shades up to try to catch a breeze. I logged on and found my favorite gay listing. I like bears, but not the ‘chubbies’. I found a good site, with great solo and action shots. Most of the pics I had seen, but some looked new. I spent several minutes jerking myself off in front of the blue glow of the monitor. I was getting close when suddenly I heard the doorbell downstairs. I pulled on a swimsuit and ran down to answer it. It was Ritchie. He had a shit-eating grin on his fine-looking face, and said with a chuckle:

“Hey, my man, you know your blinds are open? It’s not that I mind the view, but what are you doing, wasting your time like that? Where’s your fuck-buddy Bobby?”

I was mortified, but I tried to make light of the situation. I explained that it’d been a while since Bobby went on his trip, and I was horny as hell! I apologized for being so inconsiderate. I would be more careful from now on. He surprised me, and asked if he could come in for a beer.

“It’s so fucking hot tonight. Don’t you have air conditioning? … Thanks for the brew!”

I have a room air conditioner, but only in the master bedroom. I told Ritchie that I like to sleep in a cold room with a blanket, even in summer. Ritchie continued to chat as he popped his second beer. We talked about work, and family, his brothers, nothing too interesting until he abruptly changed the subject:

“It is goddamn hot as hell in here! I’m sweating bullets! Let’s take a couple more beers into that cold bedroom, and maybe we can figure a way to relieve both of our hard-ons!”

I had noticed that he was fidgeting the last few minutes, and now I made out the shape of his cock under his loose-fitting cargo shorts, hard and long as a metal pipe. I went to the fridge and got a couple more Buds. My prick was hard, standing straight out in my nylon swimsuit, and as I returned to the room it was apparent to Ritchie that I wanted him to take me immediately. I was swooning at the thought of being with this hunk, even if I was only needed to service his big str8 monster prick.

Ritchie sat on the edge of our big king-size bed, and let the cool air from the air-conditioner waft over him. I went to the stereo and chose a CD. German techno, a bootleg I brought back from Munich last year. I thought he would like the sexual pulse, forceful beat and electric whine. In addition to the cargo shorts, Ritchie wore a faded flannel shirt, the sleeves roughly cut off at the shoulder seams, open in the front to expose his wide chest with the enticing rings of rust hair around each nipple and the soft drift of fuzz across the breastbone. I was wearing only my swim trunks; the rest of my body was open for examination. Ritchie pulled me to him, and I stood between his legs, my chest inches from his face.

“Oh, baby, this is hot. What the fuck are you jerkin’ off to porno for, I can give you the Real Deal! You are a very sexy cocksucker—Bobby’s one lucky man. So, Bobby’s not here, tough shit for him. ‘Lemme give you what you fuckin’ crave tonight!”

He began to lick my body, smoothing down the light blonde hair on my chest with his spit. In a few seconds I was shiny and wet across my pecs and down to my stomach. He pulled his rough tongue across my tanned skin, body hair sticking to my glistening torso. He pulled down my trunks and exposed a raging erection, aimed like a pistol to his head. Removing my swimsuit, he had me standing totally naked before him. He took my cock into his mouth with a great slurp.

To all of Ritchie’s brute beauty and physical perfection, add the fact that he sucks cock like a vacuum cleaner. He was voracious, making loud glugs and gagging sounds as he drew my prick further and further down his throat. He totally abandoned himself to the task, groaning and moaning as he wrapped his tongue around my shaft, tickling the tender head of my cock on the roof of his mouth. I felt myself swell-up; I knew I would cum in a few seconds. I warned him it was coming soon, and he responded by pulling my hips firmly in place, burying my penis deeper yet into his head. I came in a rush of fluid into his orifice; he continued to pull me in as far as he could, taking every drop into his mouth. After swallowing hard, he disengaged from my groin and pulled my face down to his. We kissed, his tongue entering my mouth with a sweet/sour taste of cum. As we swapped mouth juices, I squeezed off one final shot of cum that landed on the floor between us.

“That was goddamn amazing! I love your sweet dick. I still taste your hot cum in my mouth. We don’t have to stop now, do we? Don’t kick me out, I’m so fuckin’ horny. I need you to give it up to me, now. Can I fuck your ass?”

As if I would stop this stud from doing whatever the hell he wanted to! I had lost any inhibitions when my dick slipped past his slippery lips and my jizz shot into his ravenous jaws. I hadn’t needed a condom in a while; I’ve been basically faithful to one man for years (other than an occasional casual oral scene at the beach). Ritchie, reading my thoughts, took a small square packet from his wallet and placed it on the nightstand. Okay, I guess he would decide when to put it on. He lay back on the cool sheets and I removed his ripped plaid shirt from his shoulders. He had gotten into my blowjob so quickly and with such determination that he had not yet stripped. His powerful chest stood up high off his frame, his back arched in a luxurious curl. He was enjoying my attention already; I could read pleasure in his body language. I opened his shorts, exposing ten very hard inches of inflexible phallic tube, a meaty spike waiting to impale its willing victim. Pulling his shorts down and off his legs, I sensed the power surging in his belly. I wanted to feel that power deep inside me, releasing energy from one gut to another.

“I want to nail you dry, no lubricant. More friction makes up for the loss of sensation from the fuckin’ condom. I can’t stand pussies who can’t take a dick without wimping and moaning about the pain. Real men take cock natural. If you can’t do it for me, tell me now and you can blow me instead, and call it a night.”

I was so ready to take him dry! I didn’t care about the pain, if he didn’t mind a wailing, sobbing queer hanging off the end of his dick! Every experience has its cost; I was willing to pay up without delay. He was tugging on his thick sausage, getting it even harder than it already was. He pulled me over his waist, and had me sit directly on his mighty chest. His lightly hairy abs tickled my butt, causing my dick to get hard again. He abandoned his cock, and grabbed mine in both of his generous hands and started to rub my pole between them, like when you rub your hands together to warm them on a cold day. I was really thirsty, so I picked up the beer bottle from the table, and took a swallow. Ritchie took the bottle next, and putting it to his lips, took a long draw. It reminded me of my most excellent blowjob a few minutes ago. He took the still chilled bottle and started to rub the small of my back with it, moving down my spine and resting the bottle between my butt cheeks. I got major chills as the bottle perspired, sending rivulets of cold water into my ass.

“You ready to get nasty with me? I’m freakin’ pushin’ the limits with you, baby, I think you can take it. I want to see you fuckin’ sit on this goddamn bottle ‘till it disappears up your shitty man-cunt!”

Man, dirty talk and a little kinky stuff! Could this get any better? He looked up into my face from between my outstretched thighs and grinned with that gorgeous mouth of his, a little saliva mixed with my cum still clinging to the light stubble on his chin. Without hesitation, I drew myself up into a crouch over him, the cold, gleaming bottle standing straight up off his belly. I began to slowly hunker my hips down, my puckered rosebud pressing urgently on the mouth of the brown glass phallus. Ritchie was holding the bottle with one hand and jacking himself off with the other. In the back of my mind, I prayed he wouldn’t get himself off this way; I had other plans for his orgasm.

“That’s the way, sweetheart. We’ll make that asshole nice and wet and soft so you can take my big fuckin’ dick. Let’s see how far up the bottle can go. Ready?”

With that, Ritchie released the bottle and his dick and grabbed me firmly by the waist. He positioned my butt directly over the bottle and pushed down. It entered my rectum only to its shoulder. There was no pain, the throat of the bottle smooth and thin compared to the ten-inch monster lying across Ritchie’s belly. He didn’t stop for more than a couple seconds, continuing to drive the bottle up my ass with a constant and unyielding pull on my hips. I opened up a little, the shoulder of the bottle quickly filling the space as I tried to relax on my tormentor. I hit my threshold, and the pain hit me without warning. I moaned in agony, and Ritchie briefly stopped again.

Within seconds, he continued his steady pull on my body, forcing the thick, uncompromising hardness of the bottle deep into my inflamed rectum. The entire thing was inside me, with just an inch pressed firmly down against Ritchie’s skin. (I still don’t know how I managed to take it. I’ve tried on my own since then, and I can’t get past the shoulder.) He began to jerk us both off, one beefy, slippery hand on my dick, one behind me on his. My hard-on was huge, by my standards. Not as big as his, but I was clearly enjoying my anguish with the beer bottle! Even in my pleasure/pain delirium, I hoped he would not make himself come this way. I wanted more from him, much more. I wanted all ten inches of Ritchie’s hard cock up my ass.

“Babe, you sure know how to take it up the ass! Your stinkin’ little hole jus’ opened up and swallowed that freakin’ bottle like it was a pencil or somethin’. I’m fuckin’ ready now, I’m gonna plug that butt of yours ‘till you say uncle!”

I assured him that I would not say uncle; in fact, I wanted him to promise he would not stop no matter what I said, or how loudly I pleaded for mercy, until he was completely drained. He pulled me down to lie across his chest, and our mouth’s met once again. He licked my face as he pulled the condom onto his prodigious member. I pushed up again, rolling my hips directly over his penis. The bottle was forced out of my rectum as I rolled back, it released from my asshole with a slippery ‘thwap’. Ritchie held me tightly around the waist, his hand caressing my back in a very tender way. His other hand was guiding his prick to its target, like a guided missile finds its mark.

The helmet of his big man meat slipped into my asshole, not completely dry, but no unnatural lubricant--only our sweat and spit to help it progress further into my bowels. It did progress, with great pressure and much throbbing. It stretched me out again; it seemed like even more than the fat beer bottle. The sensation was well known; I loved the feeling of a big-cock fuck. This one was special, both in size and passion. Ritchie was filling me with pain, an extreme response to his intense fuck, that is really the most severe pleasure a man can give another man. I was close to blacking out! My eyes rolled back and I shouted out his name, over and over, with every thrust of his dick that forced it deeper into my guts.

“Freakin-A, this is the ass of my dreams! I wanna get real-up inside you. Relax a little more, it’s almost all the way in!”

He wrapped his bulky muscular arms under my armpits and grabbed my shoulders. He pushed my entire body down; I slid across his hairy, sweat soaked body and impaled myself completely on his dick. Six feet of Ritchie lay under me, but that exceptional ten inches of him was buried to the hilt inside of me. He whispered and rambled on in my ear, lots of dirty talk, biting my earlobe as he pulled out a few inches and shot back in like a cannon.

“My shitty little faggot. (Huff, huff) My little asshole whore! (Huff, huff) You are bein’ a good little fucker, your takin’ it like the good little bitch you are. (moan) Does Bobby have as big a dick as me? (Grunt, huff, huff) I bet his little weenie can’t give you the plugging your gettin’ tonight!”

My cock, rubbing against the ripple of Ritchie’s washboard stomach, was getting raw and sore. I felt a surge, as a second coming flowed up and into the place between us. Our body’s motion on each other instantly ground it to a slick, foamy paste. My ride on his totem pole was the sweetest agony. My mind wanted this battering to end immediately, my instinct for survival telling me to pull off, end the pain, and run from this assault. However, the sexual beast in me was stronger, and I continued to allow the outrageous ripping as Ritchie worked his way in and out of my butthole. Suddenly, he pulled his meaty, sweat slicked cock out of my aching ass and yanked the condom off his pecker. Arching his muscular body, his abs crunching into tight knots, pushing me further up his torso as his cum came shooting across my back. The first load landed as far north as the nape of my neck, subsequent bursts falling in creamy clumps on my shoulders, then down to the small of my back. After spinning me around, he rubbed his hot semen into my back in big, lazy circles, as I lay exhausted on top of his massive chest, our faces pressed together in a kiss.

Bobby came home from his trip. Things were unchanged. Except for my little secret with the neighbor’s son, Ritchie. The view from our bedroom was the same, but maybe Ritchie lingered a bit more in front of the window if he saw me there. Bobby and I are still partners, but it is like a ritual: whenever he goes on one of his trips, a brown bottle of beer on my windowsill signals Ritchie that I need his dick, I need him to fill me, that I’m ready for him to take me any way he wants.