Gay Erotic Stories

And that was problematic for my hunky husband and me because the shower was an insurmountable aphrodisiac. I couldn’t be in the shower with him and not be almost overwhelmingly hot to DO him. So, like last night, the first two times we showered after we’d wrestled, grappled and fucked, sucked, jacked, rubbed, frotted and fucked some more, the shower just had us going at it all over again. The third shower was no different, and even though my balls were running on empty and my cock was sore from my husband’s TIGHT assgrip, I slammed him against the marble tiles of the wall of the shower and nailed him harder and deeper than either of the two prior times. Because we’d gone at it for a couple of hours at that point it took me longer to get to my relief, and I even banged him clean through one of his, usually that being enough to ignite my ‘nads and cause me to blast him full. He laughingly told me after I finally did shoot my wad deep inside him that if I even got my cock close to his traumatized hole again before a full day’s recovery that our houseguests would hear him screaming all the way out in the poolhouse. We both laughed until we drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

Our guests. In a self-acclaimed stroke of brilliance, I’d avoided a looming decision about a threesome by fixing up the third with a fourth. Jim and I had caught our humpy sparkplug of a landscaper jacking off watching us during a particularly aggressive fucksession in our breakfast room a week before. Short, furry, built and killer-handsome, Dan Blake, appealed to both of us. But did we really want to open our relationship to a threesome? Well, that’s just it: neither of us really knew. So my moment of brilliance came when I remembered that our taller pro-ballplayer-type hunk of a contractor, William Watts, had wanted to come by after a job on Saturday to check that all the drywall work and woodwork priming he and his crew had done in our boathouse had dried sufficiently for the painting and tiling to start the following week.

I didn’t tell Jim I’d called him and was spared a white lie when I had to leave a voicemail for William when I called him Saturday morning. So I told the truth in my answer when, surprised that William showed up just as Dan’s crew had left and our decision was approaching. I told Jim William had called to see when he could come by and check the boathouse. Well, he did . . . after a reminder from me. William’s a great guy, but unless his office manager Derrick is involved – one of those detail oriented anal-retentive types, complete with nerdy glasses – William isn’t ever quite sure what his next move is.

Jim and I have been together for a whirlwind year since a chance meeting and ensuing hookup that never ended. My life changed that Memorial Day weekend of 2012 when I met the handsome hunk of a lawyer who married me in Massachusetts a little over three months later. I was a retired marine, trying to adjust to civilian life after over twenty-five years of a “special forces” soldier’s life. Ironically, after a confusing year in the civilian world, after a whirlwind romance I never had dared expect would happen, after a gay marriage and becoming a gay “step-father” to a teenage college sophomore, the DOD approached me with a Godfather-like offer (one I couldn’t and didn’t refuse) to take a one-year contract commission back in the USMC at the Pentagon. My colonel’s uniform was the same; but I was commanding a desk, not a special forces unit this time. Although arguably, navigating Pentagon politics was as dangerous to a career as navigating Iraq, Somalia, Afghanistan and many other places had been to my life!

William had showed up as if on cue, while we were reviewing Dan’s crew’s work, and we invited him to the dinner we’d already invited Dan to the week before. Dan had confessed after being caught jacking off while watching us fuck through our window, and after some discussion we’d found that Dan had started the difficult transition from married to a woman, with children, to going through a not-so-pleasant separation on the way to what portended to be a bitter divorce, and getting his sexuality sorted out at the same time.

Dan is a total hunk. Body is as close to zero fat as any healthy man’s body I’ve seen. He’s shorter than Jim and me – about five-nine – very muscular and darky furry and masculine. Yes, overall he’s amazingly hunky. William is taller, though not as tall as we are – about six feet – also furry, and is, likewise, well-built, but more like a swimmer who’s gone into body building, with bulging pecs and ‘ceps (both varieties) under and poking out of his always-strained t-shirts. And both are very nice guys.

Apparently they liked each other, too, because a pleasant evening ended with them draped over each other watching the sunrise and then the lights over the Chesapeake Bay with us, then spending the night in our pool house. Officially it was too many beers for anyone to be driving. Unofficially, I was pretty sure that Dan’s entry to our side of the cultural aisle was well in hand with William playing ombudsman. Hope he gets his toaster oven for his efforts (or is it an iPad now?)!

I always loved waking up before my husband, as I loved falling asleep before him. His soft snoring made it almost deniable, and that was the best lullaby I’d ever had as well as the most amazing reaffirmation each morning that I was exactly where I was supposed to be in the universe if I heard him next to me.

I moved my hand down his furry ridged abs, my cock stirring against his magnificent furry bubble butt crack, and my hand brushed over his semi-hardon to then cup his huge, warm, slightly sweaty nuts which were hanging against his hairy thigh. I felt his cock stiffen, beginning the moment I had his balls in my hand, and I began massaging them, which I know makes his faucet begin to flow. An instant later I checked and sure enough his engorged cockhead had a glob of precum already oozing out.

My own cock was raging now, and I began to very slightly rub it in his crack, spreading his furry cheeks to get against that amazingly inviting pucker of his. He stretched like a cat in my arms and moved his crack against me as I felt his cock swell against my hands in his stretch. I switched my grip from his balls to his throbbing rod, the thrill of his veins throbbing in my hands sending almost uncontrollable urges to my hips to shove my cock deep into him.

I was still rubbing my own insistent cock in his crack when I started rubbing his cock in long strokes, and when I did that he sleepily thrust into me then back, perfectly impaling himself on my precum-slimey cockhead. “AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” he shouted, startling me out of the nirvana I always experienced when I first entered him. “JESUS FUCK I’m sore!” he added, but he pushed himself back into me very roughly, taking me to my balls and growling all the while.

I knew the game – we were both masters at it. “FUCK my cock is just as sore from your ass-handling last night, stud, and you know it,” I growled into his ear as I began thrusting into him, still stroking his now-precum-drenched cock.

He batted my hand away from his cock and then, with his hand firmly gripping my wrist, rolled over onto his stomach and made sure I stayed fully engaged as he got up on his knees and began thrusting his ass back into me. “Yeah, and it’s going to be a lot sorer when I’m done with it now, Bill,” he taunted me.

His ass muscles were amazing – the best control, tightest I’d ever felt. And I’m THICK, which is a challenge for most masters of their ass muscles. But he was going to town on my cock, gripping it with his ass like it was his strong fist, and my instincts were driving now-rough, frenzied thrusts into him like I hadn’t fucked him in days instead of the few hours it had been.

It was one of those rare for us, amazingly quick sessions, and no more than five or six minutes into it his breathing and yells told me he was going to cum from my pounding inside him. “OHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhh YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he yelled in a roar, and I felt his ass muscles start spasming randomly around my cock, his ring clamped on my cock so tightly that I knew if I didn’t stop thrusting it would rip my cock-skin.

And, as usual, if I’m not already cumming when I feel him cumming from the inside, it fires my turbos at full thrust. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” was the closest to a word I could manage. It was one of those fireworks exploding, starts-in-my-eyes sort of climaxes that had me in another world, far away from my previous hyper-sensitive sexual consciousness.

I was drenched with sweat, and my first earthly sensation as my senses returned was the cool air of the ceiling fan on my sweaty back. Next was being collapsed in a heap on my husband. We were both sweaty and panting, and he had his head nuzzled back against mine, cheek-to-cheek as he fought for air with his head against the mattress. My cock was still inside him and it was SORE, pain stinging and aching with every move either of us made as our bodies heaved . . . so I knew his ass had to be on fire. “God, you’re a stud,” I said in his ear and kissed the spot on his neck behind his ear that I know takes him from zero to sixty in a split second.

With several growls – obviously in pain – he bucked me off and out of him and rolled over and pulled me into his sweaty chest for a long, deep kiss. “You’re the stud, colonel, and you know it. I’m just the guy who struggles to keep your Superman-class libido satisfied so you don’t have to wander down to the pool house for more,” he said, when he finally broke the kiss.

My hunky husband can take me from swooning to laughing and many other heights of sensation like nobody ever has. And our laughter together is always something amazing in my soul’s perception. “Speaking of the pool house and our guests, I wonder what happened out there last night,” I said.

Jim’s look changed from his well-fucked playful smile to a poker face in a flash. To the untrained eye it would have seemed to not have changed, but that smile went from coming from that deep place I shared with him to being sort of frozen on his face, perpetuated and prolonged, but no longer irradiating. “What?” I said.

His face immediately fell into an adorably guilty little boy, and I knew instantly what he’d done. Our minds were somehow connected on the astral plane – something he and his family took for granted and I had learned not to fight. Usually it was him in my head, but there were also the times – like now – that I was in his. I saw in my head what he was about to say. “I sort of thought maybe a turnabout situation might be appropriate after Dan watched us outside the kitchen last week.” He held my gaze with a worried look, as if he worried that I’d disapprove of what he’d done.

I confirmed that my mind’s eye vision of what he’d done had been correct. When we were clearing the beer bottles from the deck the night before, before Dan and William headed off to the pool house, he’d gone down to the pool house saying he wanted to make sure the A/C was on and things were ready for them. I hadn’t paid much, if any, attention at the time, but I knew Dan and William had been in the pool house to shower and scout swim trunks and t-shirts to wear later, as they were both in their work clothes. Dan had forgotten his change of clothes he’d said; Jim speculated later in our bedroom that he’d deliberately done that to give himself an out if he wussed-out on staying the evening with us – or at least that his subconscious had given him the out. What Jim had really done down there was to move the outside security cameras on the eaves to point into the bedrooms and living room of the pool house instead of their usual sweep of the property. So . . . we had, subject to lighting, which I knew his security system was excellent at adapting to any light condition, anything that moved in the camera’s wide frame on our security tapes!

We held our positions, and I held my reaction for long enough that he got uncomfortable. “I’m really not bad; I’m just drawn this way,” he said in an attempt to break the mood.

“What I think is,” I started gravely, with a stony face, and I stopped. I watched his face, expectant, concerned, his mind churning. “Fucking brilliant,” I finally said, my smile erupting to the point I spit the b in brilliant. I pounced on him and kissed him and tickled him on his inner thigh and behind his pecs like drives him crazy until he begged me to stop.

We hit the showers with dire warnings to each other about even thinking about fucking as sore as we both were. And forty-five minutes and a full hundred gallon hot water heater later we were even more sore after that shower and shivering in the A/C from having spent the last few minutes in the cold water after we drained the tank . . . and our own.

Jim and I went to the pool house together to check on our guests. It was still early, now just before eight but damn early for a Sunday for “normal” people. And if they’d done in our pool house what we’d done the night before, I suspected that they would be sleeping for several more hours. We didn’t hear anything, and we didn’t knock. We did walk around the side to near the sliding door outside the closest of the two bedrooms. I know I was relieved as we neared to see the drapes hadn’t been pulled . . . knowing that if they had been in that bedroom that the cameras had caught everything. But they weren’t there, and the bed hadn’t been touched, still made with military precision.

We looked at each other and both shrugged. Then we walked on to the next sliding door. Again, the drapes were wide open. But this time, there was a tangle of sexy bodies and sheets on the bed. They were both sound asleep . . . and both displayed well for us to see the rest of them, allowing us to see Dan’s half-hard cock which, unlike seeing William at the gym, we’d never checked out before. DAMN impressive! Wonder how far he’d got in his initiation.

As we turned to go we suddenly heard laughter from inside the house. We turned back and saw both of them were awake and busting up and motioning us to come in. They’d not been up long but had heard us come to the door and listen and had dashed back to the bedroom in case we did exactly what we did. Either the exhibitionism had turned Dan on or we’d interrupted them. Either way, neither of them was at all bashful and hadn’t made to cover themselves when we opened the door and went in.

“We’re awake,” William said. “Just thought we’d see if you guys took a look to see if we . . . “

“Did the deed,” Dan said, with a blush spreading on his face as he finished the sentence after William trailed off.

I looked at Jim, and he shrugged, so I took it. “Yeah, I twisted Jim’s arm. Nice layout, though, you put together for us to see,” I said with a smirk.

We had a chuckle and debated going into town for breakfast, insisted that it was no trouble when first Dan and then William suggested they not overstay their welcome, and then Dan and William insisted that they would cook breakfast for all of us to repay last night’s dinner and hospitality.

We told them not to rush and went up to the house and sat on the deck overlooking the bay. No illusions of anything more than just a nice hookup, a pleasant welcome to gay life for Dan and a lessening of his burdens for a brief time were in our thoughts, but we were very satisfied with ourselves. Jim had his iPad and was scanning news, and I was scanning some email from my brothers, but I really, REALLY wanted to go to our security system program and check out that video!

Again as if reading my thoughts Jim said, “We have to decide if we’re going to tell them about the security video.”

“We should probably watch it first and see if it’s something they’d like to see,” I said with a devilish grin. He smacked me playfully.

“Let’s see what the landscape is like when they get over here for breakfast and then decide,” my sensible lawyer husband said.

* * * * * * * * * *

I was sitting at the patio table with some juice while Jim was rustling up breakfast in the kitchen. I’m generally not allowed in the kitchen when he’s cooking, regardless whether it’s a snack or a full meal, but this was one of the few times I hadn’t been either at the center island or in the adjacent den where I could watch him move. And the only reason was because I was sentry to watch for the approach of our guests.

And on cue they emerged. First I heard them – loud, deep voices, laughing. Then I saw them – playing grab-ass and fake-tackling each other as they came toward the deck, even giving noogies at one point Dan had William in a healthy headlock and gave him a helluva noogie before letting him go with a shove and running off to the other side, William right after him. Reminded me a lot of Jim’s son and his hyper-hormonal buds . . . which led me to wonder if they also did what I suspected William and Dan had done all night.

They got to the deck breathing hard, grinning ear to ear, and we exchanged our second greetings of the morning. Just as Dan was about to sit down, William swiped a cushion off the seat of another chair, stopped Dan from sitting by grabbing his shoulder and shoved the extra cushion under him. “You might need this after last night,” he said snarkily, and then fake-ducked away from Dan.

Dan never missed a beat. “You’re more considerate than my wife ever was,” he said, sitting awkwardly on the double-cushion.

We all laughed, including Jim, who’d apparently heard them and had come out briefly to greet them. He took a twenty out of his pocket and slapped it down on the table next to me. “Damn you,” he mugged. “You always can tell who’s the bottom!”

William mugged a “WHOA” look on his face and poked Dan’s shoulder. “See it wasn’t me telling!” he ad libbed right along with Jim.

“Hey, for what it’s worth, guys, I did EVERYthing last night. I made up for all kinds of lost time. And if size and stamina are any gauge, it’s Miss William who needs that cushion more than me!”

“Dan, at least we can say you give as good as you get – in every way!” I contributed to the banter, and we were all laughing by that point. All except my cock that was apparently considering the notion of the two of them flip fucking all night. DAMN, I can’t wait to check the security video!

Jim went back inside after saying breakfast would be up in ten. And then Dan turned to me, serious. “OK, question, if you don’t mind, Colonel Cate.”

“Bill,” I corrected him.

Dan blushed. “Sorry. Bill.”

“That goes for you, too, William. Anyone who’s fucked his brains out in our pool house is definitely on a first-name basis for sure. And we covered this topic last night before you’d done that.” William nodded but I continued. “So, Dan: your question?”

“Well, uh, I was just wondering,” he started, tentatively. “What was it that made you think I’m the woman?”

“The ‘woman’?” I said, a little incredulous.

“Well, you know, you bet I would be William’s . . . would be taking William’s . . . well, you know,” he finally stopped, frustrated but blushing.

William was shaking his head and grinning. Oh, yeah – I knew that look. I had that same look often with Jim and he with me when we said something that was just too cute. He’s smitten, I thought . . . and wondered if that was good, given Dan’s recent initiation and the usual upcoming slut period Dan would undoubtedly have to get through.

“First, let me help you with something. We’re gay MEN, Dan. You don’t see anyone who remotely resembles, either in body, movement, speech or other action, a woman here, do you? You particularly would make one helluva masculine woman – think Russian shot-putter.”

“Well, you know what I mean—“ he started, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

“We’re MEN, Dan. And we have sex. And while some of us are bottoms and some are tops and some are versatile—“

William broke in. “And some are other things entirely and many are combinations of all of the above.”

“Good point,” I said. “The point is there’s no “woman” in mansex, Dan. You may be the receiver, the catcher, the bottom, the bitch or whatever it is you want to think of yourself as or want your partner who’s fucking you to think of you as, but you’re a MAN.”

“O . . . K . . . “ he said, a little tentatively. “So . . . what made you peg me as a bottom then?”

I looked at William, who was, in fact, gazing at Dan with a combination of cow eyes and a leer. Oh, yeah, he had it bad for our hot little Dannyboy. “Dan, let me take care of what you’re thinking here. There’s NOTHING about being a bottom – or a top for that matter or versatile – that makes you any more or less manly, any more or less of a man, any more or less worthwhile or anything else. It’s like playing baseball – every position is important – or like playing baseball versus basketball – you’re a jock either way.”

“And just let ME say,” Jim’s baritone came from behind me, “That that is utter and total BS!”

I whipped my head around, incredulous. “What the fuck?!” I said, reflexively tensing my fist over this, very personal, topic.

And then, with a completely straight face, he delivered the coup de grace. “YOU,” he said accusatorily, directly at me, “ALWAYS tell me that bottoms are the superior race and you tops would be NOTHING without us!” And then, finally, with the last five syllables, that grin that always just melted me (well, melted me but made my cock as hard as a light pole at the same time!) shone on his face.

William BURST OUT laughing – a literal burst of loud, long laughter. Dan, who’d been looking a lot like a deer in the headlights, nervously joined in. And I just wanted to take my man down right then and there and remind him exactly why I felt that way about him . . . but curbed myself and satisfied myself with a very well-delivered swat to his bubble buttglobe closest to me, a loud snap sounding.

“Oh, Mr. Cobb!” he shouted, feigning almost losing control of the two platters of food he was carrying.

As the laughter died down and we’d all dug into the food I put my hand on Dan’s sinewy forearm. “And the third thing I was going to say was that it’s a fun game to play: who’s the bottom. But it’s also dangerous, and thank you for reminding us that while we often have fun with each other without any harm intended, we can perpetuate stereotypes. There was no bet. I’ll admit I speculated aloud to Jim that I wondered who was going to be pitching and who was going to be catching, but that was all about my being my usual pig self and enjoying the fantasies I had in my head of you two hot men going at it. There was no bet. We, neither one of us, could get any bottom versus top vibe from either of you.”

Dan looked relieved, but he also looked thoughtful, too. “You know what? I’ve learned more in the past fifteen hours about being a man and about being gay than in almost forty years.”

“Holy shit!” William explained in mock horror. “You’re not 24? I never fuck anyone over 25 – and don’t you EVER tell anyone I did!”

Dan looked dumbstruck . . . at least until we all laughed, including William.

“Oh, and that’s one of a million other things you’ll learn about our side of the aisle, as I call it, Dan,” Jim said seriously. Dan was all ears. “In our world, when you’re over twenty-five, God forbid over thirty . . . or,” and he dramatized being ancient, “over fooooooorrrrty,” he said with a elderly man’s tremor to his voice, “You’re basically DEAD to some young idiots and to many idiots our age and older.”

Dan sat back in his chair with a plop of resignation. “Wow, so—“

“So,” William broke in, “What Mr. El—Jim – is saying is that while that is an unavoidably prevalent feeling among gay men, the ones who act that way ARE idiots. The young guys who have ‘age limits’ that are beyond sensible thoughts about common interests and other impacts of vast age ranges are vain twats who aren’t secure enough to choose men on their interaction and instead set these bizarre, arbitrary RULES.”

“And the men our age – or even in their thirties – who act that way,” Jim picked it up, “Are insecure fools with Dorian Gray syndromes who think if they can continue to suck adoration from hot young men that it makes them perennially young and appealing themselves.”

“Wow,” I said. “And here I was trying to help Dan AVOID stereotypes!” We all got a laugh out of that. “Listen, Dan. The best advice any of us at this table can give you is to be honest, be respectful and to make sure that’s both to other men and to yourself, to your feelings, desires and needs. If you do that, you’ll be just fine on this journey through Gayland.”

“Uh, AHEM,” William coughed loudly.

“What’s that, William?” I asked.

“Uh, aren’t you forgetting the most important advice you could give Dan?”

“Oh, right,” said, immediately understanding what he meant. “And NEVER have unprotected sex until and unless you and a partner have been together long enough and have been tested enough to know you’re both clean and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re sexually exclusive to each other only.” I said it automatically, as if I was preaching to Jim’s son or any other young man, and I was damn satisfied with myself.

“Uh, Bill, that’s NOT what William meant,” Jim said, tapping my hand.

“It’s not?” I said, totally dumbfounded.

“No, it’s not, is it, William,” Jim said.

“Uh NO!” William said indignantly.

“Well, what the fuck then?” I exclaimed, dashed, all my cocky self-satisfaction ripped from me.

“UH, HELLO!” William said flamboyantly. “The most important advice to Dan is that he just spent the night and captured the complete and total interest of the most awesome, sexiest, most handsome, most sexually capable man anywhere in the Eastern Time Zone, and he should grab hold of that most awesome catch and hang onto him!”

He had said all that as a joke, but I could tell that he was, indeed, totally smitten with Dan. And I also knew by the way Dan blushed – like a virgin – that he felt the same. Unfortunately I also knew that William, like me, had been gay all his adult life and had sown his wild oats, but Dan had an entire lifetime to make up for. And that was a recipe for probable disaster for these two men, both of whom were decent, intelligent, regular-but-HOT men I happened to like better for having gotten to know them both a little the night before.

I looked at Jim and knew he both knew what I was thinking and shared my sentiment. But his eyes told me that we’d done as much as we could to help Dan into this world, our side of the aisle as Jim and I referred to it. With an instantaneous recovery of my smugness I said, “Well, DUH!” And when both William and Dan looked at me quizzically I continued. “I DID arrange all this, now didn’t I? That I thought you two were both awesome catches is a given, now isn’t it?”

As we all laughed, I looked at Jim, whose look of admiration, love and lust at me was what kept my heart beating . . . fast.