Gay Erotic Stories

In order to get my new job, I had to let my boss fuck me. Me--a red-blooded married guy with two kids! He was an old high school acquaintance whom I had treated badly. Now he was a rich Adonis with a serious attitude and a serious load of money. Turned out he had the ‘hots’ for me ten years ago, but I never knew it. He presented me with his fat, long dick during my interview. I took it up the ass to get the job. That's how desperate I was. Somehow, I had the feeling that it wasn't going to be over after the interview. I was right. It wasn't over by a long shot.

Actually, I found that could tolerate the sex pretty well. He managed to make me cum big time, bigger than I ever did with my wife. But I had trouble dealing with it mentally. It was often inconvenient, too. I didn’t like getting pulled into his office at least once a day to get plugged, especially since he had given me only three weeks to get my group into shape. He made no bones about it. If I didn’t perform on the job, it wouldn't matter how good a lay I was. I believed him. He fired the previous group leader, a guy named Dennison, to give me the job.

And then there were his secretaries. If they didn't actually know what was going on, they sure suspected. They wouldn't even look in my direction when I passed through after leaving his office, even if it had been a straight business meeting. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

My new boss, Steve Marks, sent word that I should report on my first day at 6 AM, not to my new office but to the executive gym on the top floor. I brought workout clothes, found the door propped open and changed in the locker room. When I went into the gym, I was surprised to find Steve waiting along with another, broadly built man. I guessed correctly that he was the executive trainer.

"Claus," he said, "this is John Walker. He just joined the company. John told me during his interview that he wanted to get back into shape. You were a quarterback in high school, weren't you, John?"

He knew damn well I was. "Yes, Mr. Marks; and in college, too. St. Olaf's, in Minnesota."

"Vell," Claus said. "Let's see vat ve have here. Take off za clothes."

Oh, shit, I thought. Just what I need--a gay threesome. I pulled off my tee shirt and my running shorts. I put my thumb in the waistband of my jock and began to pull down when Claus grabbed my wrist.

"Ve don't need to see zat," he announced. "I got no exercises to build zat muscle up."

Despite the fact that I was nearly naked, Claus was very professional. He used a tape to measure me in every way with the dispassionate air of a tailor. He took the length and girth of every exposed limb and muscle--relaxed and pumped. He weighed me dry and in a tank of water to figure out my percent body fat. He pinched me with calipers to determine the local distribution of fatty tissue. The whole process took about 45 minutes, with Steve observing in watchful silence.

"Zo," Clause said when he had concluded, "vat do you vant, Mr. Valker? You have ze long muscles. You could build up real vell. Like me--even bigger, if you work hard. No one can tell how big until you try."

"I don't think that's what Mr. Walker is looking for, Claus," Steve interjected. "I think he is just looking to get some definition back and to reduce his body fat as low as possible--maybe with a little additional muscular development. Is that right, John?"

It was his show. He wanted my body to be the way he remembered me from high school gym classes. Frankly, I didn't think I had deteriorated that much anyway. I just hadn’t had the opportunity or inclination to work out for the eighteen months I was out of work. It was fine by me to get back into shape. "Yeah, that's about right," I said agreeably.

"Ah," Claus intoned. "You vant za gymnast body like Mr. Marks here?"

Since Steve was fully clothed, I wasn't about to admit that I had seen every inch of his body already. "Gymnast sounds good to me," I replied. "With a little quarterback thrown in for good measure."

"Ve can do zat," Claus promised.

"How long do you think it will take to show some results?" Steve asked. I couldn't imagine what Claus was thinking about Steve's intense interest in reshaping my body. Actually, I could--and I didn't much like it.

"He is not so bad," Claus opined. "It depends on how often he vill work out."

"Every week day, at this time of the morning, just like me." Steve answered. "It'll give us a head start on business discussions between sets."

"Zen he vill do exactly like you," Claus replied. "Mondays and Sersdays, upper body. Tuesdays and Fridays, lower body. Vensday, svimming. He is not in zo bad shape. Ve vill see some improvement in a month, if he vatches vat he eats."

"That'll do. Thanks, Clause," he said to the trainer. "You'd better get dressed, John, and meet your group." I grabbed my clothes and he led me back into the locker room.

When we entered, he spun me around and pinned me against the lockers. He ground his groin into mine and kissed me. That still creeped me out more that anything else. I kept reassuring myself that my situation was not unlike that of a straight man in prison, except that I was in a financial cage rather than a cell of concrete and steel. Prisoners took their sex wherever and whenever they could get it or simply succumbed to it to survive. I certainly believed that I had as little real choice as they. But this business of kissing had a real faggoty feel.

"Steve," I protested. "Someone is going to come in."

"Uh. Uh," he replied. "No one gets in until I leave. The door was left propped open for you, but it locked automatically when you closed it. No one else's card will work until I swipe on my way out. And Clause will not enter the locker room until I leave. Relax, Jake. Let's take a shower." Jake was my nickname in high school. Only Steve used it anymore.

Steve doffed his clothes efficiently. I had to admit that I wouldn't mind if Clause gave me a body like his, well muscled and lean. I was a little broader in the shoulders. If I got into shape, I might even have an edge on him. In addition, I still had a full head of hair. I smiled at the thought as I stripped of my jock and followed his bouncing ass to the showers.

It was a medium sized room with six heads. I would have expected separate stalls in such a place, but I figured that Steve himself dictated the communal design. Steve turned one on full blast and very hot. Steam soon filled the room. I moved to turn on another on the other side of the room, but Steve took my arm and steered me to the stream he had started. I flinched when the hot water struck my back and Steve, adjusted the temperature slightly. He moved into the torrent and kissed me again, water streaming down both our bodies. Even though our cocks were touching, it was still the kiss that made me uneasy.

"I've been thinking of you and planning this all weekend," Steve revealed.

I'd been thinking quite a bit of him too, but with what were probably more mixed feelings. He worked his way down my neck, shoulder and chest until he found my right nipple. He took it in his mouth, pursed his lips, and pulled back until it snapped out. He did this repeatedly on both sides until they were as pointed as a sharpened pencil. Then he clamped down on the left and nibbled lightly. I was immediately full hard. I was to discover later that Steve could get me hard faster than any woman I ever met. Suddenly, he bit. I flinched and nearly slipped on the wet tile. Steve caught me without losing his grip on my nipple. He worked it with his teeth and I felt like I'd been hit by a taser.

I tried to suppress my moans but could not fully succeed. I realized that, unlike his office, this area was not soundproofed. Like most locker rooms, this one echoed and amplified every sound. My cock danced every which way while he alternated from one nipple to another. When I got a chance to breath, I reached down and grabbed his cock. It was not quite fully hard. I began to massage it. Steve put his hands on my shoulders and pressed down firmly. I succumbed to the inevitable and sank to my knees. I figured that it would be easier than yesterday with all the water rushing over us, but, in fact, I found that I would rather be able to smell him. He was already partly swollen and the shaft was at about a 30 degree angle. I took the big head in my mouth and sucked. I remembered his warning about teeth. I resolved to figure out later why teeth placed hard on a tit were so hot and only incidentally on a cock, such a turnoff.

Steve guided my head in and out with his hands. I sucked gently and tried to work my tongue around the shaft. I grabbed the shaft and pulled back until only the head was still in my mouth. I flicked my tongue at tip the head, opening the slit slightly and then at the sensitive cleft on the underside. Steve moaned approvingly. Yesterday, he had said I gave a terrible blowjob. I should have taken it as a compliment, but somehow I wanted to show him how wrong he was. I spent a considerably part of the weekend trying to recall the details of the best blowjobs I had ever had from women. (None of those, unfortunately, were from my wife.) Thus far, my memory seemed to serve us both well.

Then, Steve grabbed my head and pushed his shaft back in. The head pressed against the back of my throat, and I knew what he wanted me to do. For the second day in a row, I tried to open up and swallow, but my throat clenched at each attempt. Finally, he pulled back with a disgusted look on his face. He said nothing, though and gently lifted me to my feet, pulling me out of the shower stream at the same time. He pumped one the liquid soap dispensers several times. I followed his lead. He spread the soap over my chest, my back and my ass. I did the same to his. Getting another load of soap, he slathered it on my cock. Sensing that I was on the verge, he did not linger but moved immediately to my thighs and calves. I did the same to him. When I stood up, he embraced me and kissed me again. For some reason, this did not bother me. Our slick bodies slid across one another, hard cocks trapped between our bellies. I grabbed his ass and ground into him. My juice welled up and I came in torrents. The tip of my cock burned from the soap, but I didn’t care.

Steve backed me into a corner against the cold tile.. He wedged his legs between mine, grabbed the outside of my thighs and tried to lift me. I was so slick with soap that his hands just slid off. He wiped them against the wet walls of the shower and tried again. I felt my back sliding up against the tile. I steadied myself by grabbing his shoulders. Steve maneuvered his hips under mine. I felt the tip of his weapon against my hole. This time there was no easing into it. He set me down onto it in one fast motion. I opened up like a zipper. One brilliant sear of pain, and I was bottomed out on his hips.

I didn't have time to adjust to the pain because our balance was so precarious. Slick as we were, our bodies slid around with abandon. I started to slip dangerously down. Steve locked his hands behind the base of my spine and pulled up. At the same time, he bent his knees and drove me harder into the corner. His cock penetrated me deeper than ever. I had never had sex suspended in any way. The absolute loss of control was exhilarating. I had softened after cumming, but I now was hard again. After we had achieved a marginally stable situation. Steve began lifting and dropping his hips in a rhythmic pattern, then thrusting back up. The extent of his thrusts were limited by my weight. In addition, I was so soap-slicked that I slid up and down the wall in concert with his actions. Consequently, there was little shaft movement.

My philosophy was if I had to take the ride, I might as well enjoy it. I began to squeeze my ass muscles to add to the motion. The muscles themselves only affected the shaft, but the combination of his movement and mine moved the insides of my gut as well. Apparently, I did a good job, because Steve moaned loudly.

"You can't suck cock for shit, Jake," he chided, "but your ass is a real champ."

I steadied myself with my left hand while I pumped myself with my right. Eventually, Steve tired but managed to ease us onto the floor, right under the showerhead. No longer required to support my weight, Steve was able to pound me without restraint. As the water washed out the soap, friction ruled. My ass burned as he plowed me mercilessly. I begged for him to stop, and I begged for him to continue. I worked my own tool at the same time. I felt him explode in my ass and I heard his expletives.

"Jake, Jake," he proclaimed. "You are a dream fuck--a warm, flesh-and-blood, no-maintenance blowup doll." Not exactly what I would ordinarily regard as a compliment. But, then again, it was pretty much in keeping with what I had been thinking right along. Flat out sex. No emotion. Needs met. No apologies. End of story.

For the first time though, I was left hanging. I pulled on my cock and squeezed on his with my ass. Without soap or lube, I was getting raw, but I was determined to come to completion. Steve nuzzled my neck in post coital bliss. I didn't give a fuck. His cock was still planted firmly in me, and I couldn’t ignore it. I tried to envision Angela, but a clear picture wouldn't come. Then, surreptitiously, an image of Steve walking into the showers entered my mind. Lanky frame, broad-backed, glutes bouncing. I fisted myself furiously to this image and was rewarded with an outpouring of jism in ever diminishing series. This was my sixth major (emphasize that) ejaculation in 24 hours. Deep in my subconscious I filed away the fact that I had just jacked off to a mental image of naked man, one whose cock was at that moment embedded up my ass.

We decoupled and Steve dried me with one of the many plush towels set at the entrance to the shower room. He kissed me and I kissed him back, uneasy only after the fact.

"Jake," he said softly. "I really hope you make it here. I think I'd miss you terribly if I had to fire you like Dennison."

We dressed in silence, but we were not uncomfortable with one another. When we left the locker room, there were about five guys waiting to enter. Steve swiped his card to release the lock and we proceeded down the hall, his arm over my shoulder.

Behind me, sotto voce, I heard, "Looks like we have another Dennison here."

Then, "So what? All we have to do is wait; he'll get bored soon enough."

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