Gay Erotic Stories

He rubbed my arm just enough to send an electric shock through my body, squarely landing in my balls, as his touch always did. “You keep doing that and everyone out here will see how IT feels, especially in this skimpy suit you talked me into.”

His laugh was deep, and infectious, and I was laughing with him, as I always did.

“Hey, you two, it’s been a week, and you STILL can’t keep your hands off each other!” my now-husband’s snarky nineteen year old son called from the lounge on the other side of me. How he could hear soft talking with his omnipresent ear buds in place was a wonder to me. “I’d say ‘get a room’ but you have one!”

“Whose idea was it bringing him?” Jim asked, louder, his deep rich voice inflaming my nuts even more than before. Everything about him did – every single thing.

“Guilty, your honor!” I said with a laugh.

Perry, Jim’s nineteen year old son, and accompanying us on our “honeymoon” had, in fact, been my idea. His school term hadn’t started yet, and, hell, I had grown very, very attached to him, as he, apparently, had to me.

“I haven’t been confirmed yet, so it’s just ‘Counsel’ or any number of less savory epithets to call me for now.”

Perry snorted. “Yeah, we’re all anxious to have his honor Dad in the house – think of all the speeding tickets and parking tickets we can get out of!”

We all laughed. The news had come in the day before our wedding. We were already on vacation at Jim’s parents’ ‘cottage’ in Massachusetts that Friday, and Jim’s legal secretary had tried his phone and then called the house to get through. Jim was more a nervous wreck than I was at the impending ceremony the next day, and he’d turned off his phone the night before, saying that he was going to do his best to relax.

Jim had been married before. His son, Perry, was the product of that long-over ill-fated marriage, as was his daughter Haley. Haley had been killed in a boating accident when she was twelve, nine years before, and what was left of his marriage had crumbled under the weight of their grief and his mis-matched lifestyle. His wife’s subsequent descent into alcoholism dealt the de jury coup de grace, though it was her death almost two years later that legally ended the marriage. Fortunately Perry and his father both survived and rebuilt their lives close together. And fortunately for me Jim had chosen to right his life choice and live gay from there on.

When Jim got off the phone last Friday on the sweeping patio overlooking the sound, he’d looked stunned, and I worried . . . again. I’d worried initially that his nerves were signs of misgivings about our wedding, about us. Jim had been single a long time, and I’d basically always been single, at least as far as a relationship beyond sex and occasional sports events with a buddy I happened to be fucking every chance I got went. Jim pushed the idea of the wedding, and I had dove into the idea myself. I was wildly, totally in love with and committed to him, basically from our first hookup. I was totally uncertain of any future; he was certain. And he’d drawn me into his certainty.

As our wedding neared, Jim was, increasingly, distracted and jumpy, both things he’d never been before in the almost four months I’d known him. I’d had many troubled moments not knowing, but being so unskilled in relationships I had no idea what or how to ask him what was on his mind or how to give him a way out. Finally Perry – the prodigal son – had intervened and had told Jim that he needed to “get it together, Dad” and had pointed out that “the best thing to happen to them EVER was getting nervous” (yours truly).

Jim had not hesitated and had come at me head-on, asking if I was nervous, if his nervousness was making me uncomfortable and pouring his heart out about echoes from his past, from his first marriage, which he knew then was a wrong move. After a brief confusion on my part about whether he was saying he was, once again, making a wrong move, Jim held me tight and told me that he was making the most right move of his life, and he was just afraid that something neither of us saw coming, like Haley’s death, would enter our lives and shatter it.

I had my own share of life’s unexpected knocks, being retired from the Marines for less than a year. I still awoke sometimes from especially sound sleeps wondering which hell-hole I was in, which hell I was fighting in, which hell awaited me again in consciousness. Waking with Jim had helped quell these sudden disorientations faster than before, but I still did. I’d learned to live for each day during those 25 plus years, and that was how I’d been able to grab hold of Jim’s and my abrupt coupling and promise of a life together. Jim and I were fine after that talk, but he was still nervous . . . and I still, occasionally, woke up not realizing that Jim’s vast king-size bed wasn’t a ditch in Iraq or The Mog.

Last Friday’s call brought it all back. But instead of it lasting and turning into a bigger worry, Jim came to me and said, “I’ve got something to tell you.” We were out there relaxing with Jim’s parents, Bob and Jeanne, all of us enjoying watching Perry out in the distance on the sound wind-surfing. Jim and I had worn out an hour ago, but Perry was still going. “I want everyone to hear this. Mom, will you call Perry in?”

Jeanne picked up a powerful hand-held megaphone that they kept out on the patio fur such needs and called out for Perry to come in because his dad needed to talk to the whole family. When he got up to the patio, still soaked, he came and sat on the foot of my lounge. “If you guys are wimping out on getting married tomorrow, I swear I’ll kick both of your asses!”

“Perry! Language!!!” All four of us admonished. Jim was death on any sort of foul language, and I’d adapted, too.

“Seriously?!” he protested. “Nana, you’re not thinking the same thing? I know they’re not going to tell us that they’re having a baby,” he snorted.

Jeanne flushed a bit, and then we all laughed. I was the one who moved it along. “So, Jim, what then?” I asked, trying to move away from the thought of butt babies.

“It seems,” he started, and he stopped, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“What is it, son?” Bob asked, getting up and moving to put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Well, Pop,” Jim said, turning to look directly at his father, “It seems we might have two judges in the family shortly,” he finished.

And with that, everyone was up and hugging and congratulating whooping and firing ten questions at once. Jim looked more embarrassed than excited, a little taken aback by the attention. When things quieted down I squeezed his hand, which he’d had clenched in mine since the initial hug. “Congratulations,” I said, quietly. Not quietly enough. Glasses were again raised – never let it be said that the Ellises didn’t toast to excess. Jim held onto me with the hand that wasn’t holding the Champagne flute.

“Yeah, yeah,” Perry broke in. “This is where they go off and CELEBRATE alone,” he said with another of his snarky snorts. “So can I get back to the water for a while?”

Jeanne and Bob were smiling at us. “Don’t let us keep any of you while we revel in our son’s accomplishments here.”

Now, a week later, we were legally married under the progressive law of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and we were spending our sixth day on the beach in Costa Rica. And, as Perry had alluded, we’d had a lot of time in our room together while Perry learned to surf and parasailed and we all three had taken canopy tours and explored the Pacific coast.

Jim’s hand was still on my arm, and he rubbed it gently, again arousing me instantly. “I think it’s time for a nap,” I said, quickly jumping up to a seated position with my back to Perry to hide my obvious reaction to his father.

“Told ya,” he said from behind me, and I didn’t need to turn to his direction to know he was smiling.

I walked up to the hotel with a towel dangling in front of me because I was, in fact, hard as steel wanting Jim. We almost made it through the door to our suite when I turned and pinned him to the wall and ground my lips into his as well as my bare torso against his and our groins.

I was fully hard, half of my cock up out the waist of my tony Speedo square cut suit Jim had given me (one of seven, actually, in different colors) for our trip. He loved how my oversized package was unavoidable in them when I was not aroused, and he loved even more getting me embarrassed by my arousal and indecent exposure.

“FUCK ME, husband,” he snarled, groping HARD at my bone and nuts.

“Grrrrrrrrrrr,” was about all I could return in terms of words, but I grabbed him around one shoulder and around one thigh and hefted all two hundred and thirty five pounds of solid muscle that was my husband and carried him over my shoulder to our bed and flung him onto it.

“FUCK YEAH!” he yelled as he bounced on the bed. I was on him ripping his own Speedo off and flinging it away and had his legs in the air and my face buried in his sweaty crack, my tongue already up his needy fuckhole. “OH CHRIST YES!” he cried.

I ate and sucked his fuckhole, relishing the sweat and faint saltiness of the residual ocean water from earlier. Jim’s right hand was thrashing about on the night table and finally got hold of some lube and shoved it into one of my hands which was spreading his cheeks way apart. I came up for air long enough to taunt him: “It’s my husbandly right to eat this hole as long as I want, so you just fucking wait!”

“It’s your husbandly DUTY to FUCK your husband, and as much as I love that tongue, I need your horsecock filling me NOW, damn you!” he shot back.

I reached up and swiped my hand on his cockhead, which was slick with precum, and I felt the puddle he was making on his abs. Yeah, he was ready.

Instead of the lube I scooped up a copious amount of his precum puddle and smeared it on and in his ass, not at all gently. He hissed and moaned as I had three fingers in him. Then I got a handful of my own precum and mixed it with his, by then his hole was slick and ready.

I positioned my huge raging cockhead against his pucker, again enjoying the sight of it, knowing when I pushed inside him he’d open more than he’d ever open before me, knowing he now could take it well and eagerly. Just as I was about to shove into him, Jim shoved himself onto my cock, impaling himself on it with a loud “AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHFFFFFFUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKK YEAH!

As always the heat and tightness of my now-husband’s assgrip around me was overwhelming and took my own breath away in a long “FUCKKK YEAHHHHHHHH” of my own.

“Come on, FUCK ME!” he ordered, and I snapped out of my moment and began to do just that, just the way he liked it. I drilled him hard and deep with long strokes that had my huge tennis-ball-sized head almost out of him before each plunge back into him balls deep. The pace was frenetic – when he wanted it he WANTED IT. He rode me back with every thrust, and our yells and growls and words either of us would admonish Perry for filled the soundtrack.

Jim reached up and pulled our mouths together, and we were sucking each other’s faces again, tongues dueling, lips crushed together as our bodies ground together relentlessly. His big hardon was trapped between our abs, and his precum was a vast sticky patch within the sweat of both our skin together between us, and I could feel him getting closer by the way his cock grew even larger and steel-hard between our abs. “OH GOD, THAT’S IT, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” he shouted just as his ass started to clench and spasm around my pounding cock and his jizz shot up between our sweaty torsos.

And, of course, that took me over the edge, as it always did, and I began SLAMMING into my husband’s mancunt with even more force and my body exploded, my seed blasting deep into him.

When I was finally conscious enough to be aware of anything other than my nuts blasting I realized we were heaped together, a sweaty and cummy mess, me on top of Jim, our bodies heaving, his legs still clenched around me and me still deep inside him. “This is it,” he whispered in my ear.

“Yes, this is it,” I agreed, knowing that this was and is our life, bonded together, mated.

We didn’t get back to the pool that Friday afternoon. Somehow once, twice, thrice wasn’t enough, and it was finally Perry making a fuss at the door about not missing dinner that got us moving in non-sexual ways. We all enjoyed the last day and a half, and we flew home Sunday afternoon, back to Annapolis and our lives and careers and Perry’s university in the UK which starts in another two weeks.

I am a day into “real life” as a husband, never having imagined I would be, much less a husband to a man. Amazing that, as I returned to work today, my colleagues, most of them macho former special forces officers like myself, can’t seem to be more congratulatory and excited for me. And Jim seems to be fast-tracked for confirmation based on what he told me on the phone this afternoon, and neither of us gives a damn if it’s because he’s openly gay and the Administration’s further political statement or just because he’ll be one helluva judge.

Neither of us is particularly excited to have Perry an ocean away, but this was his dream to be accepted to a great school abroad and finish his undergrad there. Cambridge certainly qualifies, and we’ll enjoy frequent – if short, due to our work – trips to visit him there.

And us, well, my condo in the District is still unoccupied, so it makes it easy for us to grab a sex-break when we need it, like after work today. It’s better cardio than we’ll get at the gym afterward anyway!