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Sex Between The Stacks - Hot Gay Sex Story

Gay Sex Stories | Amateur Gay Sex presents "Sex Between The Stacks - Hot Gay Sex Story".

I attend a small college in western Pennsylvania. You've probably never heard of it. As part of my student-work activities, I do odd jobs around campus. Last Friday evening, I was in the school library, cleaning the stacks, and getting ready to close up. Not that I would have anything to do Friday night anyway. Since coming here I've been very lonely. I miss the gay night scene in Pittsburgh, my home town. The dance clubs, the bars, not to mention the booths at the video arcade! Not that I would call myself a slut, but I did get around.

And back home I was doing lousy in school. Too many distractions. So I decided to transfer to this little out of the way place nestled in the foothills of the Appalachians. Oh, I've had plenty of time to study. Too much, to my way of thinking. The town is dry. The students are straight as arrows. Boring hetero beer and chip parties in front of the TV watching hockey play-offs are the big thing around here. No thanks. My roommate is a dweeb. He keeps telling me how he and his girlfriend are saving themselves for marriage. Give me a break! I'm getting straight A's. And my sex life has been a shambles.

Until last Friday in the stacks...
It was a little before 9 pm. I had already locked the front door, and was getting ready to turn off the lights and leave, when I heard a sound in the corner. I thought the place was empty. It's a rather small library, in fact, and just a cursory check is usually enough to make sure you're not locking anyone in. I looked around the corner and noticed this skinny kid huddled on the floor with a book in his hand, fast asleep! Well, I thought, let the poor sucker sleep in the library overnight, what do I care. Besides, he looked like one of the local farm kids, dressed in worn jeans and work boots. His parents probably sent him here so he could graduate with a degree in animal husbandry.

Oh what the hell, I thought, I better wake him up. It's not his fault he's a geek. Actually, upon further inspection, he wasn't bad looking. He was thin, but in a muscular sort of way. You
could tell he wasn't a stranger to work--his calloused hands clutched at his book like a small child holding onto a blanket. His knees poked through his torn jeans. My displeasure with him had turned to pity and now the pity was dissolving into lust as I looked at his face and mouth. His cheeks were ruddy and he had full moist lips. Checking out the rest of his body, I could even detect what looked like a full basket in his pants. I actually found myself getting hard looking down at this yokel. Maybe I'd just been away from it all for too long, but damn if the sight of him sleeping there like a baby wasn't getting my rod to stand at attention.

Oh, God, now I knew I was out of control. I found myself unbuttoning my fly to give my prick some more room, rubbing myself as I watched this kid sleeping at my feet. His nipples were full and erect beneath his T-shirt, and his arms were covered with downy light brown hair. Oh fuck it, I said to myself, and pulled my cock out of my pants.

So what if he wakes up and sees me like this. Who's he going to tell? It's just his word against mine, and it's not like he's never seen a cock before. Hell, he probably even fucked a goat or two in his day.

In fact, I was hoping that he would wake up. Just to see the shocked look on his face, just to watch him jump up and run like a scared little boy to the door, only to find it locked, and I could listen to him beg me to open the door to let him out. Maybe I could even strike a deal with him-- sure, kid, I'll let you out, but you gotta do something for me first ...

Just as I was immersing myself in my little fantasy, concentrating on stroking my dick and feeling the precum dripping on my fingers, I looked down to see that the kid was no longer asleep! Not only that, but he was sitting there with a sly sleepy smile on his face, slowly rubbing his now obviously immense basket. At first I was taken aback, and for a second my hand fell to my side and my erection began to fade.

"Don't stop," his voice rose up lazily from the floor. "You look nice." With that he unzipped his fly and out sprung a massive 9 inch prick from his pants. His cock was not only long, it was thick, with a whitish-purple head that oozed so much pre-cum I thought he'd already shot his load. I must have been standing there drooling at the sight of his hard on because he broadened his smile and said, "I bet I know how to make you happy," as he stroked the whole length of his massive prick which to my utter amazement now got even larger!

"Shit, yeah," I said, my voice actually trembling with anticipation. He got up from the floor, grabbed my arm, and led me over to a small reading table between the book stacks. The warm
moistness of his hand clamped down on my arm and I knew then and there I would have to submit to him. He stood behind me, reached around and unfastened the last few buttons of my fly, and gave my pants a sudden hard jerk down to my ankles. Without even speaking a work, he pushed my face down against the table, spread my legs to expose my ass, and without warning, thrust his massive meat deep up into my asshole.

I let out a scream that I thought must have been heard through the whole campus! The pain was excruciating. It shot through my bowels like a dagger. I thought I was being fucked by a horse cock. And the kid didn't even let up for a second. As soon as his cock was in me, he started pumping away like there was no tomorrow.

I found myself whimpering from the pain, and I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks. He kept up a frantic pace that was tearing my guts apart. For a second or two I even thought I was going to faint, but then I just decided to grit my teeth and go with the flow.

It was hard to take at first. His cock was so big and so thick that it truly felt like it was splitting my ass open, but as I began to relax my ass muscles and his shaft was being lubricated with my ass juices, it became tolerable. I let out a series of sighs. I stopped crying. For the first time I noticed the feel of his balls slapping up against my ass cheeks every time he pushed in down to the base of his cock. My ass was opening, taking it all, pulling him in as he pushed.

I'd never before in my life had such a huge cock up my ass before. With each thrust my ass grabbed and clung to his shaft like a glove, and each time he yanked his dick head out to my sphincter, it felt like he was pulling my ass inside out. I imagined his cock spinning a web of precum up and down, in and out through my intestine. My thoughts were now fully concentrated on the wonderful strength of his fucking, his thighs against mine, his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me, forcing me to take every last inch of his flesh. His face was pressed tightly against my cheek. I could feel his warm breath in perfect sync with his thrusts. I felt like I belonged to him, that his flesh and my flesh were one and the same, and as he gave me a series of long deep pushes culminating in one last massive thrust into my ass, his hot spunk shot violently into my gut and his orgasm became my orgasm. His lips shuddered against my ear and my entire body shook with the electricity of our combined sexual energy.

He collapsed on top of me as I collapsed on the table. After what seemed like an eternity, his cock slipped out of my ass and he got up and released me from his grip. I stood slowly, my legs a bit wobbly, and noticed that the whole front of my body was smeared with cum. I'd shot a massive load all over myself!

We both dressed, and as I turned off the lights and fumbled for the key to let us out of the library, he touched me on the shoulder, smiled, and said, "See ya next Friday!" and bounded away.

I still couldn't believe it. A scrawny farm kid like that bringing me to heights of sexual ecstasy that I'd never experienced before. The cool night air hit my face. I was still covered with sweat. I walked back to my dorm thinking that maybe this wouldn't be such a boring place to go to school after all. Though I doubted after this night I would ever be able to finish the semester with a grade A average!

Gay Sex Encounters of the Best Kind

Gay Sex Stories | Amateur Gay Sex presents "Gay Sex Encounters of the Best Kind".

I can remember the first time I saw Mark, my first day of college, my first English class. God he was gorgeous--6'1, 185 lbs. Of solid muscle, brown hair, beautiful big green eyes, killer smile, and a model to boot. There was nothing about this man that wouldn't turn any gay man, or straight woman for that matter, on. I remember my first time meeting him, too, and having the courage to talk to him. If ever a man had given me butterflies in my stomach, this was it.

I was on the university student government, with my own student office, and he mentioned to me that he often got tired between classes, and his roommates were always in his room making noise. So, I suggested that he come to my office, and this is how we got to know each other. Him loafing around on my sofa--we had almost all the same classes--then going walking to class with me. I wasn't able to tell then, and at this point more than a year later still can't tell whether or not he's gay, he seems to be, he acts like he is, and he's not had a girlfriend since I've known him, so I look at those as positive signs.

In any case, as we would walk to class, I did nothing but fantasize about him. This man had the greatest body of any mad I'd ever seen, and here he was, in tight fitting dress pants that showed off his monster cock straining against his boxers and his muscular ass jumping with each step. He mentioned to me once that he leg presses 430 pounds on average, and that sometimes, boxers are hard to find to fit right, and sometimes, the thigh seems snap when he sits down and his legs spread. He also mentioned to me that he enjoyed sex, though he never mentioned with men or women. I was about to find out with which, though.

One night, after knowing Mark for about six months, he said to me, on a Friday afternoon as we were departing campus for the weekend, "Listen, my parents are going to be out of town this weekend, and I hate to sleep at my house alone. Think you can follow me home and sleep over with me?" "Oh, of course Mark, no problem," I said, as I thought to myself, "I am the luckiest gay man on this planet!"

At the least, if nothing happened, I'd get to see him in his boxers as he changed clothes, I thought. So I followed Mark home to a beautiful Victorian home in a wealthy part of town--after all, he did drive a Mercedes--and he looked at me with those big green eyes and said, "My parents don't cook much, there's nothing to eat here. Want to go out." "No, I can cook, why should we go out? Let's go to the supermarket and pick out some fresh pasta, we'll have fun." And so we did that, and upon returning, I made Mark the best Italian meal he'd ever had, and we found a bottle of wine and began to get quite drunk. At that point, Mark removed his tight fitting Armani t-shirt, revealing a body I thought I'd never see. My god he was gorgeous, a six pack, a huge chest, and biceps that were so hard and so firm you could bounce a quarter off of them.

Totally and completely drunk, he looked at me and said, "so, like what you see?" Nearly drooling, I said, "Of course I do, god, you're stunning." Smiling his killer smile, he unzipped his tight fitting shorts and dropped them, revealing a pair of blue and green plaid boxers that were barely enough to support his girth. He sat back down in the easy chair he had just gotten out of. As he sat, his boxers retreated up his legs and his MOUND of a cock pushed forward, nearly snapping the boxers. "Don't worry," he said, "they may not make it, sometimes they just don't." At that point, as I was laying on the couch, he came and sat down next to me. As he did, I curled up to him. I put my arms around his neck with my head leaning on his right shoulder, and I sort of wrapped him up. All of a sudden, he stood up, picking me up barely holding on right off the couch. He spun me around three times and tossed me down onto the couch with incredible force. "Is that how you like it?" he asked, "or do you prefer it gentle?" "ROUGH," I said, "rough as can be."

"How much do you weigh?" he asked. "About 110." "110," he said, "I outweigh you by 75 lbs. I bench 230, leg press 430. I didn't even feel you on my back when I twirled you around just now, I could accidentally tear you in half, are you sure you want it rough?" "ABSOLUTELY!" I responded. With that, he picked me up and carried me with one arm to a different part of the basement, filled with workout equipment, that I'd never seen before. "Pray for yourself," he said with a smile. He placed me on a bench so that I was laying on it, turned away from me, and straddled the bench. Before I could say anything, he was sitting on top of me on the bench, right on my stomach. "Are you really OK?" he asked. "Sure," I muttered, barely able to breathe and able to taste my own liver.. I knew if I was going to die, this is the way I wanted it. I felt as sorry for his boxers as I did for myself--they had to be under a terrible strain with his legs spread on top of me. With that he laid down on top of me, at least his girth was distributed, but then he reached to the sides of me and put his hands on two metal bars. This was a bench press machine. I was under a muscle god who was about to bench press 230. "ONE!" he yelled out. Although it was incredibly painful, it was the greatest experience of my life. I felt every muscle in his back seize like ropes and force that weight straight up.

As I braced for him to start the second press, he said, "Nah, I can't do it, you're too nice of a guy, and you might end up like a pancake." And with that, he sat back up on me and get off.

"Mark that was SO awesome," I said. "Can you get really rough with me, like break me!" "You want me to get rougher with you? Are you sure, I'm really pretty strong, not to boast, but I am," he said, flexing his thighs forward at me. "Please," I pleaded with him. "Well, OK," he responded. He picked me up with a tremendous amount of force, carried me across the room, and threw me down onto the bench of a leg press machine. With that, he straddle the bench, but unlike the last time where he settled down onto me, he crashed down onto my stomach. "UGGG," was all I could say as all the air rushed out of my stomach. "Rough enough?" he laughed.

"Let's see what you can REALLY do," I said. At that point, he began to push his thighs forward, easily pressing the 430 lbs worth of solid steel plates. As he did, I could feel his upper and inner thigh and his hard round ass flex into my stomach. Just as the weights let out a CLANG as they reached the top of the platform, he said, "You're about to get what you asked for." As he said it, he flexed and ground his ass into my stomach. "Jesus Christ," I yelled out, "how powerful are you." "You're about to find out," was the response. I thought for sure I was going to die. As he reached onto the legs of his boxers and pulled them down--explaining the underwear were about to disintegrate on his upper thighs if he didn't, he flexed his entire body. His ass pushed my stomach straight through to my spine until I yelled, "Oh God please, it's so wonderful but I really can't take any more punishment, I'm too small, please please get off!" With that, he climbed off.

"You look flatter than before," he said, winking his beautiful right eye. "Mark," I said, "I want you to use me as a work out tool, to work out all your frustrations with your muscled, manly body on my small little frame. I know I may not make it out in such good shape, but it would be the ultimate sexual experience for me to see your big muscles, flexing, writing, filling with blood and sweat and testosterone, as they crunched me so I could actually feel how powerful they are. Will you do it? "Let me get this straight," he said, "you want me to work out all the aggressions of school and work and life on your 110 lb body? Do you know how much stress I have, you might..." "I know what might happen," I said, "but please." "Well, if you want it this way, and you accept what might happen, that's fine," he said.

With that, he picked me up by the hair, and dragged me off the bench. Hell, I knew he might crunch me into a ball, but so be it, this was going to be great. "I'm going to use my legs as a very very powerful scissor," he said with a laugh. With that, he laid with his right side on the floor and put his left leg up in the air, spreading his boxers as far as they could go. "Lay down between my legs on your back, face up toward the ceiling," he said. I did as I was told. I laid down, my lower back resting on his ample right thigh, facing the ceiling, but if I leaned my head to the right, I could see his ass, and boy was I glad I had chosen to lay that way in a second.. Lightly, he lowered his left thigh onto my stomach, so I was literally like a piece of paper in a scissor. His boxers sort of got rumpled between his legs. Then, all of a sudden, he yelled out, "pray to whatever god it is you pray," and he began to flex his legs closed around my abdomen.

Hopelessly, I tried to flex my little abs against his thighs, but he didn't even notice the resistance. He was literally crushing me, but as I looked to the right, I could see his boxers wedging deeper and deeper into his ass, and the strain that they must be under turned me way on. As my abs basically collapsed, I let out an "UFFFF" as the air ran out of my body. "I felt that," he said with a laugh. I thought he'd stop. But not yet. "I can feel your spine on my inner right thigh, what to do next?" he said. He flexed his inner right thigh and I could hear the cracking, "SNAP!" My little body shuddered. "Don't worry," he said, "I didn't break your spine, came close to it though, but I only crunched a vertebrae or two, you'll be fine, happens all the time in football." "Watch this," he said, and with no effort, seemed to find what muscle on his thighs was on my bladder. I could feel it draining, and my hot wet piss running down my legs.

All of a sudden, he let his vice off of me, slid me out from between his legs, stood up, and said, "I've gotta piss like a racehorse." He straddled my broken body, unbuttoned his boxer fly, and pulled out a SOFT 7.5 inch monster. "Open wide," he said, and as I did, he filled my mouth with the longest, hardest stream of piss I've ever felt-- but I swallowed every drop.

"You know," he said, "it's been a long time since anyone serviced my cock, and I think it needs to be serviced." Unable to move because my back was in so much pain, his cock still hanging out of his boxers, he reached down, picked my head up by the hair, and shoved his cock into my throat. Mercilessly, he slid into down my throat, held my head by my hears, and began pushing me back and forth on his cock.

Then, he got super-hard, let go of my ears, and my body actually hung by his cock, awkwardly, because his cock was in my throat. All of a sudden, I felt his tip quiver deep within me, and as I hung from his cock, he thrust his head back and breathed out, like all his troubles were gone, his beautiful, buff sweaty body gleaming in the light, and every bit of his 9 inches hard cock spraying his hot, sweet jizz into my stomach. With a gleam in his beautiful but menacing green eyes, he said, "Now I'm going to have to finish you off."

Hot Gay Sex with Tony - My Brother's Buddy

Gay Sex Stories | Amateur Gay Sex presents "Hot Gay Sex with Tony - My Brother's Buddy".

A couple of years ago I had the hottest sexual experience of my life while on a camping trip with my brother and his friend Tony. I'm a young gay man, and I've been having sex since I was fifteen. Though I used to be quite a horny fucker and had my fair share of one-night stands, (not
to mention quite a few one-half-hour stands) now that I've matured a bit (I'm twenty-three) I've learned to appreciate quality over quantity. Tony was definitely high quality, the best sex I've ever had.

My older brother was a sophomore in college at the time, living in the dorms. He's a pretty good-looking guy, not that I would ever think of him in "that way." Oh, hell, I admit I've gotten some kicks checking out his bod, and if someone held a gun up to my head and made me have sex with somebody in my family, I'd pick him. We're pretty close, even though he's an asshole sometimes and we've had our fair share of fights.

Now let's get the obligatory description of myself out of the way. I was a junior in high school at the time, perpetually horny and over-sexed. It was my fifth year on the wrestling team, so my body was smooth and firm, fresh young skin stretched taught around developing muscles. I had (and still have) a boyish face, with full lips and a strong jaw; my hair was a relatively short mess of tousled brown hair. Below a soft sprouting of downy public hair, my thick and clean cock propped atop a pair of plump, hairless balls. I had developed into a pretty good-looking kid by that time, if I do say so myself. My most proud asset, though, is my fleshy and substantial ass. The thickness and fullness of it rounds out whatever jeans or pants I wear. I like to wear tight t-shirts that fit snugly around my waste, my ass protruding like a dome from my tight and toned stomach and back.

We had planned this fall camping trip in the summer when we had gone on a family beach vacation. My parents let me skip school that Friday to get an early start on the weekend. I had been eating a Toaster Strudel at the kitchen table early that morning when I heard his car pull into the drive. I was surprised to hear two car doors slam instead of one. My brother opened the door to the kitchen and smiled at me.

"Yo, what up, bro?" He was dressed in the requisite camping gear, flannel shirt, jeans and boots. I got up and gave him a hug, then craned to see who was standing behind him. I caught an eyeful of one of the finest specimens of male flesh I had ever seen. He seemed to be Italian and had a boyish, angular face set off by a long nose, with heavy, arched eyebrows and eyes that were slightly squinted. Totally handsome and hot face. His thick, straight black hair was cut short on the sides and stood up high in the front. He was kind of short, and like my brother was wearing the standard flannel shirt and jeans, his muscular chest and thick legs filled out his clothes, a very masculine and hot body. I tried to catch my breath. My brother gestured to him.

"This is Tony, Mike. Mike, Tony." Tony smiled at me, his cute face turning up into a sly, slightly devilish grin, and held out his average-sized, manly hand.

"How you doin'?" he asked me in a sexy, low voice that bore a slight Brooklyn accent. My heart caught in my throat, I thought I might go speechless. I managed to shake his sexy hand and mumbled, "Hey, nice to meet you." My brother set down some camping gear on the counter and turned to me.

"Tony lives on my floor in the dorms. He wasn't doing anything this weekend, so I invited him to come along with us. Is that cool?" he asked me. Was that cool? My brother didn't have a fucking clue.

"Yeah, that's cool," I said in my best benign voice. Already my mind was racing with all kinds of dirty thoughts and cheap camping fantasies.

"Cool," my brother repeated, then reached over to muss up my hair. I pushed into him playfully. "Man, we're gonna have some fun on this trip, hell's yeah! I gotta go take a piss." With that he climbed the steps and I was left alone with Tony. He broke the ice by asking me about school and we got into a conversation about wrestling, which he had also done in high school. He seemed like a really nice guy. I had a good feeling about the trip.

We got all our shit together and went on our way, three young guys in their prime of life getting away from it all to have a good time. There was a definite good vibe about the trip, and we talked nonstop all the way down. In fact, I found I had a lot in common with Tony. He was such a genuinely nice and likeable guy, and he never talked down to me or treated me like I was stupid because I was younger. Not like my brother did, sometimes. It took us maybe three hours to get up in the mountains, far back from civilization in the wilderness. We found a camping spot near some large rocks in a clearing, and set up camp. Afterwards, we decided to hike along the creek and scope out the territory. We climbed up some pretty high rocks and reached a ledge that had a breathtaking view of the valley. We decided to rest there and eat lunch.

The afternoon sun and the hike had made all of us a little hot, so we took off our shirts and sat on them to eat. This gave me the chance to check out Tony's body a little more, and to my delight it was twice as nice as it had appeared to be under his shirt. He was wearing a gray athletic t-shirt that tightly hugged his biceps and showed off his thick chest and pecs, as well as a flat stomach. I took off my shirt as well, and noticed Tony casually watching me. We smiled at each other.

After lunch Tony surprised me by pulling a joint out of his pocket and asking if anybody wanted to get high. I noticed my brother looking towards me for my reaction. I had suspected that my brother smoked weed, being that I'd found a small pipe in his dorm room when I visited him one weekend. I'd asked him about it and he'd denied it was his. Maybe it had been Tony's, I thought. I was curious to try pot, so I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Sure." My brother patted me on the back while Tony fished in his bag for a lighter. "Getting high with my little bro, who would have thunk it? Have you ever smoked before?"

"No," I admitted.
"Alright! A virgin!" my brother exclaimed. Tony laughed to himself and smiled that gorgeous smile. Tony found the lighter. He put the joint between his lips and raised the flame to it. He puffed a few times; staring down at it, then inhaled a large amount of smoke. The joint crackled and burned. He took it from his lips, and exhaled a cloud of thick, sweet-smelling smoke. That sexy smile again.

He passed it to my brother who took a hit, then passed it over to me. With my brother and Tony looking on, I put the joint to my lips and puffed it a couple of times. I inhaled and the smoke hit my lungs sharply. I pulled the joint away and coughed harshly, prompting the two to laugh. This time Tony slapped me on the back and I fell into him slightly, half coughing, half laughing. As the joint went around I got better at relaxing and letting the smoke further into my lungs, and by my last puff I didn't cough at all.

By the time we got all out shit together to continue on our hike I was starting to feel the effect of the drug, the forest looked radiant and lushly green. My brother had started off down the path but Tony was in front of me, struggling with his backpack.

"Hey, buddy," he said to me, "d'ya think you could help me with this thing?" He was having trouble getting his arm through the strap on his back, so I held in out for him as he guided his manly arm into it. My hand brushed against his warm, muscular shoulder. He turned to me.

"Thanks, sexy," he said in that low, mischievous voice. He looked into my eyes and smiled, and I definitely felt something being communicated. Was my brother's hunky friend coming on to me? It couldn't be. Maybe the weed was making me delusional. He set off down the trail and I stared at his thick back and tight ass.

The rest of the hike was like a dream; we all just took our time and enjoyed the scenery. When we got back to the camp we gathered up sticks and built a fire, then settled down around it as the night fell. We cooked dinner over the fire and had a couple beers, telling stories and bullshitting. I felt very happy to be enjoying this camping trip with my brother and his very cool friend. We were all exhausted, so we turned in and I fell asleep immediately.

The next day was also a lot of fun. We set out early to a deep part in the creek where my brother knew we could catch some fish. We fished all morning and afternoon then returned to the camp to cook up our catch for dinner. My brother set to gutting and cleaning them up, and Tony and I decided to head out and gather some more wood for the fire. We ended up walking a good way's away from our camp near along the bank of the creek. Tony stopped and looked out across the stream, stretching his arms above his head and taking a deep breath.

"Sure is beautiful out here, uh?"
"Yeah," I concurred. "I feel so relaxed out here, with nothing else around." Tony agreed, and then turned to look at me.

"You wanna get high?" he asked, giving me that devilish grin. Looking into his incredibly cute face, I couldn't say no. Besides, it was the first time we had really ever been alone together since we'd arrived, I felt like it might be leading somewhere.

"Okay," I said, nodding at him and smiling.

"Cool," he said, sitting down on the bank of the stream and taking out his weed. I sat down beside him, close enough that our thighs were touching. Tony didn't move away, just kept to breaking up his weed. He rolled up the joint, licked it, then put it to his lips and lit it. He exhaled his hit and passed it to me.

"Your brother's pretty cool, man, a real nice dude," he said as I drew in the smoke. I exhaled it, no coughing this time, either.

"Thanks," I said stupidly, not knowing what else to say. "You're pretty cool yourself." He smiled at me and my heart flip-flopped. We passed the joint back and forth silently for a couple of minutes, thick with sexual tension. Our fingers were starting to entwine as we passed it, starting to feel the high creep up on us. The more we smoked the closer our bodies were touching, I could feel our arms and legs touching and it was driving me crazy. Finally, he broke the silence.

"You wanna do a shotgun?"
"What's that?" I asked.
"It saves smoke. I'll take a hit and then I'll pass the hit to you."

"Okay," I said, not really knowing what he was talking about. He took in a huge hit and held it for a minute. Then he looked at me, smiling, and pulled my head to his. He gently held his lips to mine and exhaled. I took the cue and opened my lips against his, breathing in his smoke. When he was done we pulled away from each other, I held it for a minute and then exhaled, blue smoke floating off into the air.

"Now you do it for me." My heart was beating like crazy, crazy with sexual desire for my brother's studly friend. I took a hit off the joint and held it for a minute. We looked at each other, and then moved in towards each other. We pressed our lips together, a little more urgently this time, and I felt his soft lips start to move against mine as I exhaled the smoke into his lungs. I lost it. I sucked on his lips and he sucked harder, our tongues met and before you know it we were lost in a hot French kiss. I finished exhaling and pulled back to catch my breath. He exhaled the smoke into the air and turned back to look at me. There was no denying it now. We moved towards each other and started making out, electricity passing between us. I was lost in the moment, my body surging with excitement and desire. We pressed our bodies closer together putting our arms around each other and devouring each other's mouths. I moved my hand down his thick muscular back and grabbed onto his ass. He moaned and shoved his crotch into mine; I could feel his hard-on grind against mine. He kissed down my face and sucked on my neck, pulling up my shirt. His thick hands moved up my smooth body, grabbing my pecs and tweaking my nipples. It felt incredible. He moved his face to my chest and started licking and sucking at my pecs and nipples. I thought I might cum just from the excitement of it. He came back up and we continued to make out, hands running everywhere trying to devour each other. We ground our cocks into each other, feeling the heat. My cock was wet with pre-cum and hard as a fucking rock, feeling his thick sausage press into it. I had to taste him.

I reached for the bottom of his tucked-in shirt and ripped it out from his pants. I moved down his body and licked his hard, flat stomach, making my way up to his thick and sculpted chest. His chest had a small amount of hair on it, surrounding fat, quarter-size nipples. I took them into my mouth and sucked hard. He moaned and ran his hand through my hair, down my back towards my ass. I licked at grabbed at his muscular chest, then slid down his body towards the top of his jeans. Tentatively at first, I moved my hand toward the bulging crotch of his jeans, and then I pressed my hand into it. Tony gasped and moaned. I could feel its hard thickness, poking upwards towards the top of his jeans; I rubbed my hand down its length. It seemed huge and ridiculously thick. I unbuttoned the top of his jeans while he looked down at me in anticipation. His treasure trail ran down his tanned, tight stomach into a pair of tight gray underwear, a wet spot forming near where the large head of his cock rested. I took his jeans all the way off and rested in between his hot, hairy thighs. I couldn't believe it, this gorgeous stud was mine to devour. I moved my face up to his underwear and felt the heat of his crotch, running my nose and lips over his balls and up along his shaft. I peeled the underwear back to reveal the thickest piece of man-meat I had ever seen. It was fat and smooth and uncut, his cockhead poking out of his thick foreskin, dripping with precum. I slid his underwear off and got a better look at him. His crotch was pretty hairy, with sexy, man-sized balls hanging below his thick pipe. Tony looked at me.

"C'mon, buddy, do it," he said. I didn't need any further encouragement. I reached down and hefted his meat up, then put my finger up to the head and spread his precum around it. Tony moaned. I slid my hand down the length of his cock, pulling the foreskin back from the head and making him moan again. I leaned down and licked the precum from the head of his cock. Then I put my mouth around the head and slid his hot cock in my mouth and down my throat, massaging the underside with my tongue. Tony gasped and his legs shuddered in excitement. I devoured his meat, sucking it down to the root into the back of my throat. I could feel it pulse and become even harder. I took it out and ran my tongue thickly up its length, sliding my hands up Tony's thighs and onto his stomach. I toyed with his foreskin, putting my tongue under it and running it across his sensitive cock head. I had never seen an uncut cock before, let alone gotten this close to one. This guy couldn't be for real.

I ran my hands down his back and on his ass, raising it up and pushing more of his hot piece past my full lips and down my throat. I sucked his cock for all that it was worth, and felt him getting more and more excited. I reached down and grabbed his balls, lifting them up and rubbing underneath them. There was no going back now. He started to tense up and whispered in that hot voice, thick with sexual excitement, "I'm gonna cum." I continued slurping his fat cock in my mouth, hungry for his load. Grunting and gasping, he his cock swelled and pulsed in my mouth. Tony looked down at me eating his cock, lost in total lust. I felt thick ropes of cream begin shooting out. I swallowed it all greedily, my lips wrapped tightly around his fat hog. Tony fell back onto the grass and closed his eyes, coming back down to earth. I slid his cock out of my mouth, milking it with my fist and swiping the last drops of his cum off the tip with my tongue. Tony breathed deeply and leaned up towards me.

"Shit, you're so fuckin' hot." He pulled my head to his and we started making out again, him tasting his own cum from my mouth. I was, of course, rock hard at this point and leaking pre-cum like crazy. Tony wasted no time in pulling off my jeans and underwear. He threw them off into the grass and climbed in between my thighs, drinking in the sight of my exposed cock and balls. He gave my sizeable hard on a few hard strokes, leaned down and started licking at my balls. He licked up my balls along my cock, I gasped at the sensation. I reached down and ran my hands through his thick hair. He looked up at me and smiled that Joker-ish grin, stroking my cock, and then opened his mouth and ran it down my shaft. His hands massaged my thighs, reaching underneath and grabbing my thick ass cheeks. He reached his thick fingers into the crack of my ass while pistoning my cock down his throat, moving his fingers toward my sensitive asshole. He rubbed his thumb across my tight hole, making me gasp and jerk upward, shoving more of my prick down his velvety throat. He licked down my balls again then lifted them up, licking below them. He raised my legs up off the ground and moved his tongue further down towards my hot pucker. I breathed heavily in anticipation. His hot tongue finally found my asshole and swabbed across it, licking it wetly. I gasped and felt my cock jerk in his hand.

He stroked my cock with his hand as he continued to probe my ass with his tongue, working it into my hole. I relaxed it and his tongue slid in some more, I heard and felt him moan as he ate out my ass. He pushed his hot tongue into my slick asshole and I couldn't take it anymore. With no warning I started to shoot my load out of his pistoning hand. He came up from under me and immediately went down on my cock, swallowing it to the root and drinking my entire copious load. I nearly passed out, entered another dimension. It was the most powerful orgasm I'd ever had. As I started to calm down Tony licked the last drops of cum off my deflating cock, moaned sexily and laid his hot body on top of me.

"Well, this is kind of a surprise," I offered. We laughed and made out a little bit more.
"We'd better get back to your brother, eh?" Tony said.
"Yeah, I'll bet he's wondering where we are." Reluctantly, we got up and started putting our pants back on. We watched each other the whole time, him smiling that incredibly sexy smile at me. When we were all dressed and composed, he walked toward me and pulled my body towards him.

"I can't believe what a hot little fucker you are, we're gonna have some fun on this trip."

"What about my brother?" I wondered.
"We'll just have to be careful. We can wait till he's sleepingtonight then go take a walk." My heart beat faster. I sure as hell was going to have a fun time on this trip. We started making out again and soon our cocks were hard and throbbing for each other again.

"Oh, man, I can't stand it. I want you so bad," Tony said. I broke away from him and tried to regain my composure.

"We better take it easy, we gotta get back to camp," I said.
"Yeah, we better." We started gathering up wood, bumping into each other and grabbing each other every chance we got. When we got back to camp my brother was all finished and was stoking the fire.

"What the hell took you fuckers so long? This fire's about to die out! What were you two doin' out there, pulling your puds?"

Little did he know...

Sunday Morning Laundry - Gay Sex

Amateur Gay Sex Stories presents "Sunday Morning Laundry - Gay Sex".

The summer after my high school graduation had ended and my best buddy and I had moved into the apartment our folks rented for us in the big city. We'd gone to schools at 3 different rural towns but now we were off to college. I wasn't sure what I wanted to study but whatever it was, it would have to be something that would keep me from having to live in a rural town. You see, through my teenaged years, I'd dated a couple girls and made love with them quickly but passionately several times. But deep inside I knew I was really gay. While I could admit it to myself, I couldn't admit it to anyone but my best friend Jimmy. We messed around together as pre-teen boys but it went beyond the normal experimentation. We both knew we enjoyed what we did and relied on each other to provide the sex we wanted. And while we were best friends, we weren't in love with each other. We knew we wanted to go to a big city and feel free to be ourselves at long last. Hiding our sexuality, feeling ashamed of it, feeling we didn't belong, knowing we'd be hated--it had grown tiresome and it was no way to live. To hell with small minds!

We had been going to school and living in our apartment for about 2 months. Life as we'd known it had changed for the better. We couldn't get into bars or clubs, but we'd managed to meet other guys like us, finally able to experience their true sexuality without too much harsh judgment. There were many parties to go to and Jimmy had taken to that life straight away. He loved being out and about and he loved bedding down any cute guy he could. Me? Sure, I'd had some fun. But I soon realized what I really wanted--a real man! An older man, masculine, confident and who at least looked straight. I didn't want boys. And I didn't want old queens either. So I allowed myself some fun so I hit some parties on a Friday night and went home alone. Jimmy, on the other hand, he was a hottie and never short of a warm bed with a willing ass beside him. His weekends were wild and I saw him little. And while he was out again on Saturdays, I was home alone cleaning, shopping, napping and staying up to watch SNL.

Waking at 4am was my custom. Life on a ranch demands it. Working out a routine to get chores done was a way of life for me. I had to do my own laundry and I'd settled on doing it between 4 and 6am on Sunday mornings. It's not that I wanted to be ready for church. I didn't attend church anymore. I just hated doing laundry when everybody else was doing laundry and wasting time constantly checking availability on machines. But crack-of-dawn Sundays? I had the whole laundry room and all the machines to myself! Usually, because I'd had to haul several loads on several trips from my apartment to the laundry room, once everything was in a washer I'd sit in the little courtyard fronting the laundry room enjoying the cool air waiting for the washing machines to buzz.

This morning, as I sat in the dark, I could hear footsteps somewhere behind the laundry room (I should explain the layout: The apartment complex was long and narrow. Apartments on two levels faced each other. All amenities and facilities were located in the courtyards between the apartment buildings, including the laundry rooms. Second floor apartments were accessible from communal stairs and arranged along a shared deck running the length of the buildings. Every apartment door came off that deck). I then heard a series of "thuds" as someone, obviously a man, made his way up the stairs and down the deck. I couldn't see clearly but I heard keys rattle and slip into a dead bolt lock. I could just make out what looked like a figure in black pants and white shirt with what I think were patches. I heard the door open and close a couple seconds after the figure stepped through it. I figured it was a rent-a-cop just getting home from his graveyard shift. I continued sitting out waiting for dawn to break when I caught sight of a tiny orange glow at an angle to me. I turned towards it and could make out the figure of a man leaning on the railing of the second floor deck, smoking a cigarette and wearing nothing but a loose pair of shorts. I was sure it was the same guy that had just gotten home but I hadn't heard him exiting his apartment. I looked away, closing my eyes but I heard him snort and looked his way again. He was looking at me and turned away. I didn't think much of this whole scene and proceeded to stretch while sitting. I thought about him and snuck glances. He appeared about middle aged, seemed to have a hairy chest and stomach, a little middle aged girth, mustache. That was all I could make of him. I imagined what his life was like. Probably divorced, working a thankless job, struggling to make ends meet, little joy in his life, looking forward to kicking back with beer and cigarettes watching football, etc. But my mind began racing thinking about what he does for sex. It's weird to think of middle aged men jacking off but I imagined that's what he did. If he was a security guard, he probably couldn't afford to date often. And as I thought about it, I started feeling a little horny.

He was still out there. His cigarette was out but he was still out there. Something came over me and I wanted him to know I was gay. I crossed my legs and crossed my arms and cocked my head to one side as I swung my dangling leg. I reached up to run my hand through my hair looking in his direction. I could make out that he was watching me. I reached to the bottom of my tee shirt, lifted it up and lightly scratched my belly hoping to expose myself to him. The more I thought of it, the more I wanted this man to want me. I raised the hem of my shorts up a little on my thigh to scratch lightly and rested my hand on my crotch. I was beginning to swell and made an obvious squeeze on my cock. He kept watching but didn't react. I didn't know what to do. I was desperate. I was also being foolish. I reached up and dragged my hand slowly across my nipples as I stretched and caressed my face. I licked my lips still looking at him, fidgeted in my seat and spread my legs open and shut a series of times. Just then I saw him move. He reached down to his crotch as if to scratch himself. I gave a short swing of my head and kept looking directly at him. He reached down to his crotch again, this time making it obvious he had his cock in hand and stepped away from the railing slowly turning back to walk into his apartment. OH MY GOD!!! I instantly felt hot and excited wondering if we'd made a connection. My heart thumped and I sat frozen thinking about what was going on. A little voice in my mind kept screaming "Damn you fool! Get up! You're taking to long to make your move! Get up!"

I was nervous and excited and just then I was scared shitless when I heard a buzzer in the laundry room go off. DAMN IT!! I got up to unload a washer into a dryer and waited inside knowing the other washers would go off too. After all my laundry had been put into dryers I went back to my patio chair feeling the whole thing had been blown and to my surprise, there he was on the railing again. Instantly I felt excited and warm all over. I looked directly at him and smiled. His hand moved down to his crotch and gave an obvious squeeze. In the growing light of day I could almost make out the knob of his cockhead formed on the cloth of his shorts as he squeezed his cock. He turned and walked back into this apartment. It seemed his door was still opened part way from where I could see. My god. He wants me to go up there. I hesitated but that angry little voice piped up again and I got up quietly walking toward the stairs. I was nervous and scared and stepped on each tread gingerly. When I got to the deck I turned toward his apartment and could see his door was ajar. A faint glow emanated from the interior. I crept slowly against the apartment wall, hesitated by the door and mustered the courage to peer into his open door. When I did, he was slupmed on a couch bathed in a TV glow; his legs spread wide enhancing the obvious tent in his shorts. He was looking directly at me as I looked through his door and he wrapped his hand around his engorged cock through his shorts and nodded slowly. My god, this was going to happen. I took a deep breath, opened the door wider and slowly stepped in. He didn't move. He just stared at me and held his hard on in his hand. I closed the door quietly and stood there looking at him. He gave his cock a few slow strokes through his shorts and nodded at me again. I stepped toward him knowing now he wanted me to enjoy his cock. I stepped between his open legs and knelt before him. He released his cock and my hand took hold of it. God it was hot and hard! I reached for the elastic, he lifted himself and I slipped his shorts down to his ankles. His cock was magnificent. Hard and veiny with a tight bulbous head! At its base was a tangled mass of pubes connecting seamlessly up to his belly hair. My mouth was dry with anticipation. I called forth a wad of saliva from my glands, leaned in and took his cock as deep as I could into my mouth, wrapped my lips tightly around it's base, let all my saliva drain on his shaft and slowly lid my sealed lips up his cock. A guttural moan escaped from his throat. I licked his cock head and, taking a deep breath, plunged it into the depths my mouth again. He let out a deep sigh and I started reveling in the hard heat of his shaft. I bobbed my head on his cock, licking around the base, down to his balls, getting them soaked in my spit, gripping the long hairs in my teeth and he spread open further. God I loved what I was doing. I took his meat back in his mouth and sucked for all I was worth. He put a hand at my neck and drew me in deeper as he bucked his hip up to my mouth. His cock went deeper and I moaned around it. He put both hands on me, one at either side of my head, forced me to fuck into him as he bucked his hips repeatedly fucking into me. His cockhead pounded on my throat and I gagged horribly. He released me and my head rose up gasping for air. Tears filled my eyes from the desperate gagging and I shook it off. I sucked in some air and went back to town on his cock. He guided my head slowly down his shaft till he could feel my throat. I worked hard to keep from gagging as I felt his knob trying to insert into my throat. I'd never gone this far but knew I wanted it. I felt air trapped in my throat and felt like I was being choked till I remembered to breathe through my nose. There was a little mucous but it was manageable. His cock was in my throat and he began to fuck into me slowly. God, my cock was raging hard and I loved being a cock sucking faggot for him. As he realized I was managing his cock well, he began to buck up into me again. I fought gagging again and let him fuck my throat. His pelvic bone slammed into my nose repeatedly causing a little pain but a dick fag like me deserves it. He gripped my head tightly holding my face down on his pubes and I felt his cock go deeper and swell on the walls of my throat. His cock blasted his hot cum and I could feel the heat of it on the walls of my throat. My eyes teared and my nose felt like draining as he pumped his cock head a few more times, grunting with every shot, squeezing my head harder. His hips dropped and he released me as his cock slipped out my throat. It was still in my mouth and I worked to suck whatever else was left. His sensitivity was apparently great for he writhed and moaned and pushed me off his cock. I sat on my haunches before him gulping. There was nothing there to swallow but the raw pain I felt in my throat with every gulp was a sweet reminder of what a wanton cock slut I had just been. He rolled his head back, drained of all cum and energy and I reached up to cop a feel of his hairy chest. Instantly his hand grabbed mine and took it off. He rolled his head forward and simply said 'get out'. I froze stunned as he stared coldly at me. I slowly arose, turned and silently walked out the door. I had been used and discarded.

It took a couple hours for the guilt, the shock and the feeling of abuse to wane and the ecstasy of having serviced a man to take over. Over the next few days I battled the guilt of reliving the scene every time I jacked off. Because of it I vowed never to let a man do me that way again. But next Sunday, he came home and came out to the deck wearing nothing but shorts smoking a cigarette looking over at me. What would I do then?

Banging a Straight Butt - Hot Gay Sex

Amateur Gay Sex Stories presents "Banging a Straight Butt".

Richard professed to be straight, but he'd get a throbbing hard-on at least once during every shoot. He'd modeled for drawings, centerfolds, greeting cards, calendars, covers, and ads in all the gay sex magazines. His fee was never very high, so I knew it wasn't the money that kept bringing him back to my studio. I never touched him except to adjust his pose. I wanted to put him into my work more than I wanted to put him into my bed.

Richard is about five-feet-ten, black-haired, blue-eyes, and of French-Canadian and Irish descent. As an instructor at a Wall Street health club, he has carved himself a powerful body. The light sprinkling of hair on his buns, chest, legs, and belly doesn't hide the cuts and thick veins of his muscles. His gay cock is smaller than average, but his hard, square, marble buns were what I noticed first about him.

He was sitting at the pier, sunning, in gym shorts and socks and sneakers. It took me an hour to work up the courage to ask him to model for me, and when he responded so quickly and easily I was a bit taken aback. He grinned, wiped his brow, and stuffed his sunglasses down the front of his shorts, giving me a quick flash of his black bush. He seemed to have no shyness at all. I gave him my card and told him to call me so he could see my work and make up his mind about modeling.

He called the next day, and half an hour later he arrived wearing jeans that hugged his butt like wet paper. He looked at my drawings and photographs, both straight and gay, and, liking what he saw, asked my fees. I quoted him my lowest, and he nodded his acceptance. When he reminded me he wasn't gay, I lied and said I had thought so. It was really just the reverse. He looked to me like the classic New York clone - pumped, cut, short-haired, mustachioed, and wired with a Walkman. But I knew I could get a lot of mileage out of him, so I let him have whatever illusion he wanted.

For our first session, I dressed him in gym shorts and tanktop. As soon as the initial portrait shots were finished, I had him slip his shorts down to his knees and raise his tanktop over his head as if he were undressing. His gay cock dripped a single pearl of pre-cum and started lengthening. He seemed totally unabashed, even proud, but I don't think that barely six inches was so much to be proud of.

The body, however, was a marvel of sculpted symmetry. I found no bad angles, no muscle overlooked in his bodybuilding regimen. So many clones are built like ice-cream cones - ballooning tits and arms, chicken parts below the waist - but Richard was perfection. His butt was so firm that even when he walked away from me, towards the backdrop paper, it didn't shimmer; the mounds rotated gracefully on thick, hairy legs.

The tiny black hairs at the base of his spine, over his deeply cleft cheeks, added to my obsession with his "straight" butt. I posed him so that as much of his hole as possible was showing. I stood him spread-legged over a mirror and shot down into it. ("These are the dirty shots," he chuckled, when he saw the prints.) I then had him squat on his hands and knees over the mirror, giving the view one would have it one were rimming him. Black ringlets wreathed his puckered, pink hole, and his balls hung low, swinging slightly when he talked or laughed. Finally, I dressed him as a construction worker - jock, boots, helmet, and sunglasses - and in a series of shots he removed those items one by one.

That first set of poses resulted in a series of covers, centerfolds, and greeting cards. The next set - with Richard in a leather jacket, boots, and chains - resulted in a best-selling poster and another centerfold. Not bad for one day's shooting.

He modeled again about two months later, right after coming from the beach. His tan was still shiny with oil, and he smelled of salt and sweat. He was slightly self-conscious of his funky aroma and asked if he could shower.

"Not on your life," I said. "It'll inspire me."

I dressed him in full wing-collar tuxedo and handed him a large champagne glass. I lit candles and seated him on a white sofa to show off his tan. He slowly stripped, shot by shot, down to a semi-transparent black jock. When he peeled the ripe-smelling cloth below his swelling ballsac, his gay cock rose to attention.

That tuxedo shoot also became a classic - covers, cards, posters, and even a deck of playing cards. I gave Richard samples of all of them.

"You always make my dick look longer than it really is, don't you?"

I smiled and said, "There's a secret. It's the lens and the angle. I'll say no more." I didn't think he needed any more compliments than I'd already given the rest of his body, the parts I didn't have to enhance.

I finally took the chance of asking him to model with another guy - no sex, no kissing, just two bodybuilders rubbing each other down and working out. I was stunned when he said yes. The partner I picked for him was an ex-lover of mine. Sam's body is the most remarkable duplicate of Michaelangelo's David I've ever seen. He is also fair-haired, so I knew he'd complement the bigger, darker,
hairier Richard.

At one point, Sam was putting mineral oil on Richard's back, glancing down at his by-now-famous buns, and Sam started to get a hard-on. I had them reverse positions quickly, Sam standing with his back to Richard as Richard oiled my ex-lover's back. Like bookends, both now sported boners. I enjoyed watching Richard's tremendous hit. I later told the editor that the models wereavoidance of any eye contact with Sam. The pictures were a straight, and the magazine made played that up in the spread, which made their physical contact all that more electric.

It was now six months later, and Richard had arrived even later than usual for our first session in half a year. His excuse? A sore asshole, which had made it impossible for him to ride his bike to my studio. He'd had to walk, poor baby. I didn't bother to ask him how a straight guy gets a sore asshole.

Despite my contempt for his sexual cowardice, my physical attraction to him was undeniable. His beauty had even inspired me to work out myself, so I was a good, hard picture of manly health now. He noticed immediately.

"Looks good...real good," he said, lightly smacking my rippled tummy.

His swaggering macho attitude seemed a fraud to me, but I thanked him for the compliment.

He quickly stripped down to a pair of transparent black boxer sports. Everything showed through, even the hairs on his ass. "Like 'em? Anne bought them for me. They're real silky, like her panties." He chucked a bit and then had me feel the fabric.

"Polyester," I said coyly, "but nice. Aren't they awfully warm though?"

Richard toyed with a prescription jar and said, "Nah, I'm used to nylon gym shorts anyway. This is the shit I have to use on my ass." He held it out for me to see. "Doctor says it's probably nerves, holding my ass too tight or something'," and he chuckled.

I read the label, didn't recognize the medicine, and handed it back to him. "Probably some antiseptic cream with painkiller in it," I said off-handedly.

"Will it show in the shots if I put it on? I mean, I don't know watcha got in mind for today."

I told him we were going to dress him as a bodybuilder, with weights in one hand, money in the other, and a gay cock ring on his price. "It's a story of bodybuilders who sell sex to support their careers as statues," I sneered.

Richard's smile faded. "Do some of them really do that, ya think?"

I had to work hard to swallow my laughter. "Sure," I said. "Why work if you don't have to?"

I set up lights and the barbells as props. Richard stripped out of the sheer black shorts and struggled into the gay cock ring.

"Haven't you ever used one of those?" I asked.

He looked up at me, shrugged, went back to what he was doing, and said, "Nope. Never needed one. I always get hard real easy."

I walked over to help and helped him fasten the metal snaps on the leather band. "Like this. Real tight."

He walked to the stand, then rubbed his butt a bit, wincing.

"Does the medicine sting?" I asked.

"No, I didn't put any on. I was afraid it'd show in the shots. Maybe you could do it, so it won't show. It's a funny color."

It was indeed: a puke orange. I couldn't believe he had asked me to apply it. "All right, stand with your cheeks spread," I said softly, walking to him under the bright quartz lamps. He straddled the stand, a foot above the floor, and spread his cheeks wide open. I slicked my index with the gook and aimed at his angry, red hole.

"Careful," he said, chucking, "I'm a virgin."

I slid my finger into his tailpipe and he hissed a bit as I went in. I wanted to shove my whole fucking hand in there after his last remark! "Does that hurt you?" I asked.

"No, the medicine feels cool and soothing. Keep puttin' more in there."

I stuck two fingers into the goop, then slid my middle finger into his steamy vent and ran the other around the outside. He was no longer hissing; he was moaning now. His balls swelled back against my hand and I could feel the thick vein under his groin filing his horn with blood. He spread his butt cheeks wide apart and told me to put more in, especially inside the hold. I greased my finger again and slowly rotated it inside him.

"Man, you sure know how to handle ass. That feels great! Let's get this shooting going. I feel better now."

He turned to face me, and at the tip of his gay cock a tiny stream of pre-cum glittered in the light. He'd never been so hard! His gay cock stood up proud, throbbing and making circles in the air. The silvery stream stretched unbroken to the floor and shimmered like an icicle. His knob was a deeper purple than I'd ever seen - the cock ring was doing it job. We finished the shoot in record time. I didn't have to wait for his hard-ons. That porker stayed engorged for a full hour.

Afterwards, my throat was so dry from lusting after his asshole that I went for some wine in the refrigerator. I offered Richard some, and he accepted. He also lit up a joint. He stood behind me, smoking, still hard, still wearing the cock ring.

"I like this thing. Feels great on my cock," he said. "I'll hafta try one on Anne."

"Why, does she have trouble keeping a hard-on?"

He laughed. "You know what I mean." He toked his joint. "I mean put it on me when I fuck her."

I chuckled at his dimness, poured our wine, and went back to the living room. He put his jeans under him and sat next to me on the sofa, his hard-on still bobbing in the air.

"Look at that. I mean, I always get hard easy but this has been up for an hour already."

I smiled and sipped my wine. "You forget who's been looking at it more than you have."

He laughed. "Oh, yeah. Right." He was stoned already. "Listen, can you put some more of that stuff on me. I think my sweating has made it not so good anymore," he said slowly, his tongue thick from marijuana.

"Sure," I said. I felt calmer with half a glass of wine in me. "Stand in front of me and spread."

He sprang up, handed me the sticky substance, and bent to touch his toes, his hole right at my eye level. I slicked my hand up with goo and slid around his hole.

"That medicine feels great in there," he sighed.

It's not the medicine, it's my finger that feels good, I thought to myself.

"Fuckin' Jesus, you can really handle ass. I heard some boxers use dildos to relax their asses before a fight. Is it true, ya think?"

It is, if you want it to be, I thought. "I don't know," I said.

"Does it feel good to get fucked in the ass? I mean, this doesn't hurt at all. Feels fuckin' great, in fact. Sweet Jesus, I like it!" His head hung upside-down between his gigantic thighs, the dope apparently going to his brain.

"I don't get fucked much. I prefer to do the fucking."

He grinned at me ad grabbed my throbbing sausage through my sweat pants. "I can see why," he said. "Why waste a tool like that?"

I was still probing his manhole, watching it loosen and get slick and slimy as my finger wormed around in it. He was writhing back onto my finger now, stoned and craving the feeling I was giving him.

"God, that's wild. I really love it. Can I lay on the couch? My legs are getting stiff."

With one deft movement, never taking my hand out of his hole, I reached under the sofa for a guest blanket and threw it across the cushion. He climbed slowly, both because he was stoned and so as not to let my fingers get away. He clamped his hairy vice around my knuckle and bent forward, leaning on his side and spreading one cheek.

"Get naked," he said, "then I won't be the only one showin' everything, y'know?"

I let my finger slip out gently, then quickly stripped off my shirt and slipped my finger right back into him. I slid out of my pants and jock with one hand.

"Jesus, that is some dick you got!" he squeaked enviously.

I got onto the sofa and he raised himself up. "Slide your legs under me and I can rest on you," he whispered. He spread open his cheeks again, and my cock, since it curves downward, fell against his butthole, next to my fingers. "Look at that thing. Think it'd feel good in me, like your finger?"

"Much better," I said huskily. "It'll go deeper to the heart of the problem."

He grinned and tugged my fingers out slowly and squeezed my thickening shaft. He ran his hand up and down it.

"That's good. Get me good and hard. It'll get real big for you. Keep spreadin' that cheek so I can watch it slide inside your asshole."

He rotated his hairy fingers around my cock, then suddenly looked me in the eyes, probably the most direct stare he's ever given me. We knew each other now; he wanted it, and he knew I knew it.

"Ready?" he hissed, licking his sweaty mouth, sweat dripping down his forehand.

"Are you?" I whispered.

He ran his hand back over my rippled stomach. He beamed with approval, then grabbed my swaying horsemeat. "Make love to my asshole, real slow now, but I want it all up my ass - the whole fuckin' thing."

My cockhead was bloated to the size of a ripe plum, oozing sweat, piss, and a ribbon of pre-cum that stuck to the black fringe around his hole. He slid back, and winced as the head slid in.

"That's the worst part," I said. "It'll get easier now."

He relaxed his grip on my cock and reached down for my low- slung cummakers. "Big balls, too. God was good to you. Feels fuckin' great in there, man. You know your shit. Keep workin' it in there like that. Yeah, all the way in and all the way out."

He bent more forward and buried his handsome face in the blanket, raising his ass high int eh air. I stood on my feet, raised his cheeks even higher, and slammed deep into his hole. He was never going to forget this fuck! I pulled his ballsac like reins on a horse. He hollered but didn't try to stop me.

"Fuck! Ride me! Ride me! Rape the fuckin' shit outa me! Gimme that fuckin' fat thing. Make it come outa my ears when you shoot your cum. Bang the fuck outa my asshole!" He screamed and bucked and slammed his ass back at me, devouring my cock with his asshole.

I reached under his abdomen and grabbed his rod. He sighed deeply as I stroked him and slowed down my ramming. I wanted him to shoot with me. I wasn't going to forget this fuck either.

I settled his ass down on my thighs so I could reach his cock better. He pulled himself up, straddling my lap and rubbing up and down on my cock. I ran the other hand over his furry tits and belly. He rolled his head back against my neck, and I rocked him in my arms, slathering his cock, squeezing him close.

Suddenly, I felt moved to tenderness by his vulnerability. I had all of his now- my cock in his ass, my hand around his dong, his head against my cheek. As I stroked this body that I had made so famous, I felt genuine affection for him. I wanted to please him.

I gave long strokes to his cock, sliding into his bowels each time my hand reached his root. He was close to coming now, so I speeded up my fucking. His barrel-chest swelled and heated in my arm. I was deep inside him when he shot right t the wall - long platinum ribbons of steaming juices. He screamed when I hit bottom and shot him full of my juices.

We seemed to come forever, his hairy hole gagging on my cock and his load still splattering the wall. Even when we stopped exploding, he continued to ride me, and I continued to stroke his quivering manhood. He leaned back and licked sweat from my neck, then shoved his tongue into my mouth.

"Mmmmmmmm," he moaned.

I was ecstatic.

Hours later, we were sill lying in a tangled ball of sweat, muscles, hair, and cum. We stroked and fondled each other, my softening log still in him. We sipped wine, kissed, and lavished affection on one another. It was a nice truce; we liked each other. Gone was that manufactured macho attitude of his. I wiped the sweat off his face, kissed his shoulders, neck, and face.

He kissed my mouth, tenderly and smiled. "Well, doctor, I think you treatment was a success. My ass hurts good now. But I think I'll hafta come over for regular treatments."

We both chuckled.

"I suggest an overnight stay at the hospital," I said, smiling at him.

We wound ourselves together in my big bed and slept soundly, each a visitor in the other's dreams.

Steve - Gay Sex

Amateur Gay Sex Stories presents "Steve".

It has been some time since I got my courage up to admit that I like boys better than girls. I have been surfing the net in that direction and can actually appear quite knowledgeable on paper. In life, I really have never done anything like that and at the moment, I don't see any real prospect of change. After considerable looking around the net (nothing like the "Badpuppy") and other more or less appropriate places I can even say that I've developed something like "my type". Well, Steve is a pure definition of it.

I've drive shuttle for the school for over a year now. Ironically, even though the enterprise is called the "Escort Service", I really have not met anyone while driving the van. This year I am the boss, thus in addition to my Saturday night regular shift, almost every week I have to pick-up other people's shifts. Since the freshman class at my school has grown with time, and no one at the Housing office has any knowledge of the fourth dimention, there are no spaces in any dorms. This year, just like last year, some freshmen got placed in the Hampton Inn. It is definately too far from campus to walk every day, thus there is a shuttle, courtesy of the Hampton Inn, from the University Center to the hotel. The shuttle runs from 7:30am to 1:00am, every half an hour. Naturally, there is a large number of students for whom 1am on Friday/Saturday night (rather Saturday/Sunday morning) is far too early to go to bed. We take those people home. That's how I met Steve.

One night, right around 3am, he got on the van and sheepishly asked if I would take him to Hampton Inn. In the flicks of the dome light and the street lights I could see not much more than a pale-white face on the black canvas of the night.

"Sure, hop on!" was my reply. As we drove on, I watched him in my rear-view mirror, conveniently pointed at the passengers (in this case there was only one). I was immediately attracted to him. As usual, I don't know what it was; as a matter of fact at that point I didn't even have a chance to look him over, but something has just sparked.

Not knowing any other way, not hoping for very much and just generally feeling bored I started a conversation with him. I was very surprised at how well the conversation had gone. In the minutes that it took us to get to the hotel we managed to have a coherent enough conversation, that I deemed it appropriate to introduce myself at the end of the ride, learning his name as well.

I have a pretty good visual memory and since I work a lot and not only on Saturdays, there are quite a few regular riders that I know. For some I can just connect their face with their destination. Although I have made quite a few introductions, a handful actually know my name, and fewer still have introduced themselves to me. It came as a very pleasant surprise during next week (Thursday, I think), when Steve got on the van, saying:

"Hey, Mike, remember me?"

"Sure I do ... You go to Hampton Inn, and your name is Steve, right?" I asked and was welcomed with an introduction to his friend. This time a three-way conversation was even livelier still. The ride actually took significantly more time (like 15 or 20 minutes) and I have found out a couple of things about Steve and his Hampton Inn roommate. It turned out that the roommate was actually moving out of the hotel and somewhere on campus. He was deemed lucky by Steve, to which I proclaimed that I'd rather stay in the hotel -- a lot easier to deal with life that way. At least, I told Steve, you will have a room to yourself for a while! He agreed to the advantages of that factor.

"Are you working this Saturday?" he asked as he got off. Upon receiving an affirmative answer, he said: "I am sure I will see you then!"

"Later, have a good night guys." I said, without thinking much, as I drove off.

When I got home that night, I set down on the couch and recalled the events of the evening. Somehow there were more light out today. When Steve and his roommate boarded the van, I could see him in most detail so far. He looked perfect. About 5'7" - 5'8" and only 130 pounds he looked to have a swimmer's build from under his slightly baggy cloths. His light-brown hair was at once made into a perfect crew cut, but has grown since, and now looked like a dome. From the looks of his face, I would say he has not been shaving for more than a year and his skin still maintains its boyish pink and shine. Ever since the first night on the van, I was attracted to his deep blue eyes and his gentle, caring and almost boyish killer-smile. Sitting on the couch, I thought, with real lust, of the literal meaning of Elton John's words: "All I ever wanted was a reason to drown in your eyes..."

To my disappointment, however, I have not seen Steve for the next week and a half...

The following Friday there was no one to work, but me. And it was a real hell, like very rarely occurs even at our badly run shuttle service. I practically worked all day, with less then a half an hour for lunch in the middle. At 10:30pm the last shift of the day started. There should have been a driver to work the overnight (me, in this case) and a driver and a dispatcher who would both leave at 2:30am. Well, this Friday, of course, the dispatcher called off. I decided that the other driver was fully capable of working for the two of us, and I will take the dispatcher's post, as to insure the proper organization of the service. It also gave me a chance to catch up on some paperwork. It is always nice to do paperwork while dispatching. The latter does not interfere at all with the former, but it was originally thought that the two would be done at different times, thus I actually get paid double time for that work. Pretty nice!

At about 2:30am, just as the other driver was wrapping up his shift, I was just getting ready to go out driving. By this time way too many things have happened for me to even think of Steve's whereabouts and guess whether I will still see him or not. As a matter of fact, as of the week before, I had to complimentary conclusions of Steve's whereabouts. I thought, may be he was moved to campus, or may be he found a girlfriend. I was not happy about either one, but I really had neither a say nor a choice in the matter. Besides, as I said, it wasn't the thing on my mind at the moment.

Just as I was ready to leave, Steve came in through the door. It was the first time I have seen him in real light. He looked just as good as I thought he did: I would have never given him more than 15 upon a first-sight evaluation. And I guess that is what I like about him so much; plus his killer smile and deep-deep blue eyes. I almost dropped my backpack, when I realized that he was real and not a pant up fruit of my horny imagination.

"Hey Steve, you want a ride home? I'm leaving now and I don't know when I will be back: we have a little hell here, as usual!" I added promptly, to hide my surprise.

"Sure, Mike, I am just about ready to call it a night."

We walked out to the van. The doors were locked and I opened to front right door, to open the back one, so to let the passengers get it. I kind of pointed Steve to the front seat.

"I get to ride shot-gun?" he was surprised.

"Sure, why not? Strap yourself in: it is the most dangerous seat in the house," I said without much thinking, as there was no time for anything but a prompt departure.

It actually took me some considerable time to collect all the people from campus and when I dropped everyone off, I was racing to another rendezvous to which I was like 10 minutes late. In all the rush of about 20 people to go home at the same time I totally forgot about Steve. It is not that I forgot about him (he was sitting right next to me), but I totally forgot that he had to go home! All the while we were talking about all kinds of cool stuff. We talked about cars, my work, school, the way he was adjusting to the new environment and the social life (or rather the lack there of) at school.

When the second passenger-collection around campus was finished, I finally realized that Steve had to be taken home too.

"Oh, shit, I forgot to take you home, didn't I? Let me take you there now, before I forget again. Okay?"

His reply came as a surprise: "Na, you don't have to ... I will go for another run with you, if that's okay?"

"Sure, man, whatever you wanna do. Always a pleasure to have company along!"

It is always, indeed, a pleasant distraction to have someone to talk to on the van for more than two consecutive minutes at a time. I enjoyed Steve's company for another ran, with scenario repeating itself at the end of it. As the night wore on, I have stopped making offers to take him home, as there had been a couple of times we have driven by the Hampton Inn, but he didn't get off and our conversation about nothing continued. Two separate feelings were slowly arising in me now. First of all, I felt more and more attracted to the kid riding shot-gun with me for the past two hours. Second, it looked more and more like the subject was skewing and Steve wanted to either ask or tell me something.

It was about five o'clock in the morning, when the wave of people died a little bit, we went to the local Mister Donut that is open all night. Before ordering, we both made a stop at the john. I was too preoccupied with the subject of our conversation to think of anything, but I did seem to have noticed Steve stealing glances in my direction as I was buttoning up my old Levi's.

We got our coffee (I insisted on paying for all of it) and headed out, back to the van. As we were walking outside, Steve suddenly grew silent and seemed to concentrate on something. Whatever it was, I didn't want to bother him too much (may be he just got sleepy) and concentrated on my coffee myself.

"Mike, ... can I ask you something?" Steve almost whispered, as I was starting the engine: I could barley hear his words.

"You just did, but, go ahead, shoot for another one," I was just settling into my normal mood of the morning.

"Mike, do you have a girlfriend?" The question took quite some time to arrive, but put my strategic forces on alert level ONE (I've been reading too much Tom Clancy at that point in my career).

"Well, I don't at the moment ... as a matter of fact, at this school your chances of getting laid are pretty thin, unless there are some special circumstances about you. So, don't get your hopes up!" I said with a giggle, not really knowing if he was asking what I really wanted him to ask.

"Ah-h, what special circumstances are you talking about?"

I wanted to find that certain accentuation there, so I did, but who is to say that it was really there.

"Well, there are quite a number of those. If you brought a girlfriend from home, you can definitely get laid, almost in no cases will that be taken away from you. Like I heard this story somewhere about this guy who went out with this girl form home. He was a frat-brother, but they went out for at least two years that I heard of. And then one weekend, she was visiting him, but he had to go to a meeting or something. When he got back, he caught her with one of his "brothers". I feel sorry for the guy, but I still think that must have been part his fault -- you just have to be able to see those things!"

I was thinking that Steve would comment on the story, but he retaliated to the original subject of the conversation: "Unfortunately that is not an option at this time... So, what are these 'other ways' you were talking about?"

I took my time in answering that question. It was my time to decide just how far I would go on the matter. It was my time to evaluate my position on the matter. We just picked up a passenger and I didn't exactly want to continue the conversation with a witness present, lest make Steve (or myself, for that matter) uncomfortable and blow my chances, whether they existed or not. It was about 5:30 by then, I was tired and not thinking straight. I was also horny, as I am 24 hours a day, and even more so, from having Steve sitting next to me. I decided to run with it, since the worst I could do was getting a rejection, which happened to me more than once and I am used to them.

When the passenger got off, I started speaking even before Steve had a chance to open his mouth and change the subject. "First other way, I was talking about is rather conventional. There are some women around and there are a few colleges with high concentration of women around here. Like there are Chatham and Carlow, and there are others. The second way, you see, is to 'switch sides', if you can call it that. This school has higher-than-normal proportion of gay sex males, you know. Some people go for that..."

"Really? I didn't know that! Have you ever done it?"

His question came out, like it was preset in his mind. It came expected and unexpected at the same time. I was hoping he would ask it, but I was taught by my experience not to invest too much into those hopes. It was still mathematically not clear what he was talking about: he could have been talking about the "first way". It was very unlikely, although it did offer me a way of escape, if I wanted it. I have for a long time (10 minutes) decided that I will run with it, and that was just another turn it was taken, and I was there to follow!

"If you are asking what I think you are asking, then the answer is 'Yes', I have done it once, a long time ago, but lately I have often considered doing it again. Just as you said, none of the other ways are an option at this time."

He all of a sudden became a little more uncomfortable: "Sorry, man, I didn't mean to get so personal."

"Hey, no sweat, my friend. If I didn't feel comfortable answering your questions, I wouldn't, believe me! ... How about you, though? I know you don't have a girlfriend, but have you done it with another guy?"

He was awarded some time to think about his answer, since we had a large group of passengers board the van. All those people seem to have come from the same place, but they all were going to different places, thus it took us about 20 minutes to take deliver them all. It was about 6:15, thus about the end of my shift, when we dropped of the last passenger and turned back to campus. I looked over at Steve for an answer to my question. I saw fear and hesitation, but maybe only because I wanted to see them.

"N-no, I've never done anything serious with guys --"

The answer took long enough to arrive and the rest was nowhere to be seen: "And..?" I asked.

"-- I think ... uh ... I want to ..." and a long pause resulted . . .

It was near the end of my shift, and there were no more people to take home. I drove the van to the usual parking spot and killed the engine. We set there for a while. I think both of us new what was going to happen next. The most likely possibility was that one of us would say something out-loud, thus break the ice and begin a new turn in our not-yet-relationship. But we both set there in silence: we were still not over the possibility that the other would decline the proposition, thus breaking the not-yet-relationship (and might even ruin the other's social standing). As we set there, I was looking at Steve. He wasn't looking at me, at least he wasn't looking into my eyes. The morning sun was just breaking out, and there was enough light outside for me to see him very clear.

He was seated in the front seat of the van, one leg underneath him, and half-a-way turned towards me. His coat was unbuttoned since it was pretty warm in the van. He was wearing a blue-and-yellow striped polo shirt, about two sizes too big for him. Although his jeans were pretty loose and not worn-out at all, I could see his upper thigh outlined by the light-blue fabric. His head was turned toward me, but the face was looking down at the floor. All I could see was his light-brown hair, covering his forehead. Despite the hair, I could see (or may be rather feel) the expression on his face. I sensed frustration and indecision; I thought he may have been frightened . . .

A loud static over the radio interrupted our silence. I glanced at the clock and slowly realized that we have been seating in the van for more then 15 minutes now. I realized that there was certain element of risk involved, but "those who do not risk, never get to drink champagne", so I
ran with it once more.

"C'mon, Steve. It's time to turn in. Let's go."

He didn't say anything, but rather turned around and slowly got out of the van. I knew I had to put us on the same page before we got to the Campus Police office, where I had to drop off the key to the van. I was usually offered a ride home (about 10 minutes worth of walk away from campus) by one of the squad cars. It was clear that Steve would be taken home (to the Hampton Inn) by a squad car as well. At that time we would be separated, the momentum lost and I may never have a chance at him again. The walk from the parking to the Campus Police office takes about two minutes, so I had to think and act fast.

"Steve," I said upon a moment's reflection. "I want you to know that I've never done anything like this before, but something about you just tells me that I must ..."

I took a second to regain my breath: "Would you like to try it with me?"

There, I said it! However clumsily it came out, it may not have been understood under other circumstances, but that morning I was sure Steve knew what I was talking about.

"Oh-h, I don't know ... -- I think so ...," the reply came ever so slowly, but I could see that once the decision was made, he relaxed and it was easier to take the next step: "I am really scared," Steve admitted.

I grinned: "Remember, I've done this just as many times as you have! Do you think I'm not scared?"

As we were entering the building from the back, I pushed the door and walked inside in front of him. Right as we were passing the doorway, I turned around and looked at Steve: I almost burst out in tears myself when I saw him crying. I held out my arms and embraced him in the best hug, my shaking body could provide. He hugged me like a child and started really sobbing into my shoulder. There was nothing I could say. Apparently the pressure of the past hour and a half (while we knew where the things were going, neither had the courage to come out in the open) really got to both us. As we stood, hugging, in the hallway, the moments of indecision passed. We sheared our strength and determination not to waist any of the energy spent on coming out to each other...

"Can we go to your room?" I asked, in another minute we resumed our walk to the Campus Police office. "Unluckly my roommate is home this weekend."

"Sure," Steve easily agreed. "I think I would like to walk there: it is a nice morning and a walk should help me relax and, may be, we can talk about ... you know ..."

"Great!" I interrupted him. "We can walk by my place. I want to show you where I live, and there are a couple of things I want to pick up there."

We walked into the office and I returned the key. I did my best to act like nothing was going on. I don't think it worked very well, but nobody said anything to me. As usual, I was offered a ride home, but this time I declined, stating that I was going to go for a walk (true, indeed). On that note, Steve and me left campus and started towards my apartment.

At least first two hundred yards we spent in silence: the decision made, what else could we talk about? As we were walking down the empty street this early Saturday morning, I seem to have lost all perception of the real world. Steve brought me back to reality.

"Mike, u-gh ... do you know ..., a-gh... how do I say it?"

"Do you mean to ask me if I know what I am doing? If so, the answer is 'NO'. Even less so, if you mean to ask me 'What are you getting me into!?' ... By the way, how old are you?"

"I turned 19 in August. You?"

"I'm 20 and glad that I will not be contributing to the delinquency of a minor." I replied and added promptly: "Not that it would have made any difference anyway."

Steve put his arm on my shoulder and said: "Thanks." I knew, he really meant it.

We paused, as we crossed the street. I put my arm around him for a brief moment and said into his ear: "I whish I could kiss you right now, but it looks like I will have to wait."

He didn't stop, but just smiled. It felt like it was the happiest day of my life, but I knew the deal was not done yet and another difficult part was ahead of us.

We got to my apartment pretty quickly. I didn't have too many things to do. First of all, I made sure there were no phone messages for me. Then I checked out the contents of my wallet and, upon a moments reflection, added another $50 to it from what I call "the cash bucket". At last, but probably the most important reason I went to my apartment any way, I emptied all my supplies of rubbers into my coat's pocket. I also produced a tube of KY jelly, and added to the generous collection of all kinds of rubbers in my pocket.

All the preparations took me about a minute and Steve didn't have a chance to get bored. He was rather preoccupied with all the posters in my living-room and I don't think he even saw what I was doing.

"Ready to go?" I asked, opening the door. "I always thought that expression was funny: it was I who had to come by the place, not you, yet you have to be ready..."

"Yeah, I've never thought of it ... Now that you mention it, it does sound funny," Steve smiled.

We came out of the building and continued our walk towards the Hampton Inn. I pretty much had nothing to say and I felt that Steve needed the time to think, so we walked in silence for the next 15 minutes.

"You want to get in from the back, so no one sees us?" he asked, as we turned the last corner before the building.

I figured that I had nothing to loose, so I said: "I don't care. None of the CMU students in their right mind are awake at 7am on Saturday morning; the hotel staff couldn't care less and I will do whatever you feel more comfortable with."

He smiled and turned towards the hotel lobby. As I correctly guessed, there was only one person at the front desk in the lobby and he recognized Steve, but couldn't care less who I was. He looked like he had been on the job for ever and ever and was really looking for nothing but his replacement. Nobody else was out, so the elevator quickly whisked us to the fifth floor of the hotel.

Last year on one occasion, I had an opportunity to stay at the Hampton Inn, thus I remembered the floor plan well. I also have been in too many hotels too many times in my life, so I could guess the room lay-outs as well. Turned out I was not too far off. When we entered the room, I noted that Steve didn't have too much stuff laying around. Most of his things were still in the boxes, stashed in the "closet" area to the right. The bathroom (with two sinks and a huge wall-mirror) was on the left. The room was totally typical, with a desk, a coffee table, low couch and a couple of chairs at the far wall, by the window; two beds, a little bigger than a double, but too small to be queen size, were of to the left, parallel to each other; at the feet of the beds, thus of to the right, the TV stood on the massive dresser. Once I saw the room, I immediately commented to myself that it looked like the long-faithful room at the Elliot hotel in Boston. There were only two differences -- quality of furniture and the price of rent.

The room-evaluation only took a few seconds, as I followed Steve inside, closed the door with my foot, grabbed him by the shoulder and turned around. There was only one thing I wanted to do at the moment and hearing the door click shot, I pulled Steve towards me, bend my neck down and kissed him, full on the lips. Although, I am sure, he was expecting something like that to happen, he was startled anyway. It took about a minute for him to relax and respond to me. He wrapped his arms around me and parted his lips. Our tungs met half-a-way into his mouth, dancing with each other, exploring each other's mouths. Our hands went all over the place, caressing the bodies through our clothes... After positively the longest kiss I have ever had, I came up for a breath. In one swift motion I locked the door behind me, and pulled Steve into the room.

No words were said, none were necessary. As we were walking to the far bed, Steve and I dropped our jackets on the floor and both walked out of our shoes. For the first time I had an opportunity to glance bellow his waist-line. His hard-on was rather evident, despite everything that may have been restraining it. Well, I was no better: my state of excitement was also very obvious by the front of my pants. It was time to part with those useless articles.

Just as I was thinking that, Steve said: "Let's get undressed."

In response to his statement, I turned around and put my hands on his waist. Touching the sides of his body all the way to his armpits, I moved his shirt up and over his head. He mirrored my movements just a second later. I moved my hands over his shoulders and down his smooth, hairless chest. When I brushed his nipples, moving my hands further down his body, I saw the front of his pants stretch out even further. With one hand I kept working on his belt buckle, while pulling him to me with my left hand and pushed both of us on to the top of the bed.

By the time we both were on top of the bed, we started kissing again. Both of our pants were unbuttoned and we started rubbing against each other, trying to get them off. As far as taking the pants off it didn't work very well, but the action of my cock rubbing against his, even though a number of layers of clothing, made me as turned on as ever. I was just about ready to "cream my shorts" and that wasn't the game plan.

I pulled away from Steve's embrace and got off the bed. Standing up, I pulled the legs of his pants, until they came all the way off. I gave myself 30 seconds to look at Steve's body, while taking off my own pants. His skin looked pale-white in the morning sun; his chest looked like a marble wave of a statue with two dark cherries on it. Apart from a patch of light-brown hair originating at his navel and traveling down into his tighty-whites, his upper body looked hairless to me. The underwear was yet another place were I wanted to look, but even more, I wanted to see what was hiding behind this well-worn and very stretched piece of white fabric. His eyes were closed, but his face was getting tense with anticipation. I knew, my 30 seconds were up.

As I kneeled down, I put my hands on his thighs, feeling his body tens and then slowly relax. I lowered my face and brushed my nose against the bugle in his underwear. I could smell the musky odor of his sweat and a million other things I could not recognize at the moment. I kissed his lower belly, all over it. I kissed both his upper thighs, and started slowly pulling down his underwear. While his underwear moved down, I kissed and licked all over his lower body, his thighs, his light-brown hair pubic hair. Just as I got to the base of his shaft, it was freed from his underwear and I felt it push up under my chin. As the underwear came down to Steve's knees, I brought my head up, totally freeing his cock. I looked at it. Oh, God, it was so perfect.

Steve's penis stood out at about 45 degree angle to his belly. It was circumcised and the head of his very straight 6" looked only slightly darker than the rest of his shaft. His balls were perfectly round and tightly drawn in the sack. There was only light hair on his upper thighs, getting darker and thicker down his legs. 'Enough looking, though,' I said
to myself.

I kissed and licked between his legs and up to his balls. Apparently, I was pushing all the right buttons: Steve put his soft hands on my head and moaned lightly. I caressed his sack with my tung until it relaxed and extended slightly. I started moving to the second one, and graduating to both in just a moment. I sucked slowly on his balls, as my hands traveled up and down his body, caressing it in all sorts of places, touching his soft chest and pinching his wonderfully hard nipples on every other pass.

I continued in a similar fashion for about as long as my patience allowed, about 5 minutes. After that, I couldn't take it any longer. Of course, I loved the feel of his warm nuts in my mouth, but I desperately needed the real thing. Besides, my own cock was still trapped in my underwear and beginning to bother me. Not without disappointment, I let go of his nuts and slowly leaked my way up his dick to the mushroom-head. I held his cock with my right hand, while I slowly leaked and sucked the head. I could taste a million different things on the tip of his hot and silky head. I wanted more of it, I needed more of it, I wanted all of it in mouth NOW!

Still holding the bottom of Steve's cock with my right hand, I moved my head down over it. I slowed down and begun forcefully sucking on him, as I felt the head of his dick tickle the back of my throat. I made a tight ring with my lips around the base of his shaft and started the up-down motion with my head, never interrupting the sucking.

Just as I begun debating what should be my next move, I felt Steve tense-up and heard him hold his breath. I moved his cock half-a-way out of my throat and his orgasm erupted in my mouth. Steve came pretty hard, but I swallowed most of his wonderfully hot, sweet and salty cum. I milked him dry as he grew soft in my mouth.

I let go of his cock and hoped on the bed next to him. We frenched again, trading our tungs and Steve tasted his own juices that I saved for him in my mouth. He smiled just with his eyes and I knew, my efforts weren't wasted. I was still hard as a rock and desperately needed a release. I looked in Steve's deep-blue eyes and all I could whisper was "Ple-ease!"

Steve turned around on the bed and pulled down my boxer-shorts, as I lifted my hips in a faint attempt to help him. I almost came as the soft fabric brushed by the head of my cock, but I held on. I held on when, with out much prelude, Steve enclosed the head of my dick with his mouth. As he slowly sucked on it, he cuped my balls with his right hand and moved his left hand freely around my body. That, just like any other, tactic was pretty effective. It didn't take long and I felt the familiar tension in my upper thighs and groin, as I forcefully came into Steve's hot sucking mouth. I don't know just how much I shot, but it was definitely more than usual (just thinking of who was sucking on my dick made me half-orgasmic). Steve drank it all.

After I came back to my senses, I found Steve atop of me, with his lips open, not a half an inch away from my face, I could feel his warm breath on my eyes. We kissed and exchanged our juices again, me tasting my sperm in his mouth this time. I think I wasn't totally over my orgasm yet, when we rolled over and under the covers, falling asleep in each others arms.

Surprisingly, I woke up before noon. I was on my back, high to the head-board on the pillow. Without opening my eyes, I stretched out, just as I do every morning. I felt something warm on and off to the left of my chest; my hand brushed by some hair. "Cat?!" was my first reaction, reflecting back to the days when my Mom used to have a cat and it would come to my bed on a cold night, crawl under the covers and try to push me off. Slowly, my mind argued the plausibility of that, reinstating the events of last night along with it. I looked down at Steve snuggled next to me, sleeping soundly like a baby: he even had that angelic expression on his face. I was over-swept by a feeling... I didn't know what it was, but it felt like nothing I've ever felt before. I knew that the night was the turning point in my life, and I knew that Steve must be a major part of that new life.

The time of procrastinating in bed expired, as I couldn't hold my morning piss any longer. I had to get up and go to the bathroom! I slowly "deflated" my body and got out from under Steve, as I tried to get up without waking him up. He just moaned some things, then turned over and got up. I pissed and went back to the bedroom to try to locate some of my clothes. I stood next to the bed and looked at Steve sleeping. He looked like an angel, I swear! I couldn't hold myself: I bend over and kissed him on the half-open mouth. He woke up and appeared disoriented, as he saw me naked in front of him.

"Good morning, hon," I said, smiling.

"Mike... Shit, I thought it was all a dream..." he said, as he woke up completely.

"I hope not, I enjoyed it!" I responded, kissing him again.

"Me too," he said pulling away.

"I need a shower," I said. "Any chance I can get one here? Not much sense in taking a shower and putting on dirty underwear, but it's better then staying all dirty."

"Sure," Steve said, but I could feel, he wasn't sure about something. I didn't move, as I looked at him, showing that I expected him to explain. "Can I ... can I come too?" he finally asked, tentatively, looking at me with a huge question mark in his eyes.

"Shit, I thought you'd never ask! C'mon," I said, relieved and headed back to the bathroom. Steve followed. I turned the water on, and adjusted it to my standard of "relaxing shower". "How is that?" I asked, letting him touch the rushing stream.

He said nothing, instead stepping into the tub and motioning for me to join him. I did as directed without any unnecessary words. He got wet and let me under the stream. As we were shifting positions, our cocks brushed against each other, sending an electrical shock up my spine and making my cock swell again. After we switched positions again, I got the soap, soaped up my hands and started washing Steve's back, slowly touching every spot of him. Up and down the back, around the neck and down his chest, my hands washed and caressed his body in one slow motion. I made rounds around his pecks and thumbed his nipples. Continuing the wash, I moved down bellow his waist, still standing behind him, lightly embarrassing him. My cock was really hard by then, it stuck out in front of me and slipped between Steve's wet legs.

I took a step back and kneeled down. Steve spread his legs and I continued rubbing my hands all around his ass, up and down the crack, massaging around his tight pucker. With that, my other hand moved from his balls to the stroking his hard dick and back between his thighs, massaging and stroking everywhere. I got up and kissed his neck from behind. He tilted his head backwards and we frenched for a while as I fingered him. Steve broke the kiss after some short 30 seconds and whispered: "Fuck me, please."

It was all the encouragement I needed, and, as Steve bend over forward supporting himself from the tub's edge, I replaced one finger in his ass with two. My soapy hand lubricated his tight ass and pleasured him at the same time. When he repeated his request, I pulled my hand out and positioned the head of my dick at the entrance to his love-channel. I stood straight and slowly applied pressure forward. It was the first asshole I've ever fucked and it was really tight. The head slipped in and I saw and felt all muscles tighten in Steve's body. I remained still for a while before I moved more. Steve twitched and gasped from pain.

"Relax, man, I know it hurts, but it will get better in just a sec," I told him in the most encouraging tone of voice I could. Apparently my advice hit it home, and Steve relaxed so I felt my cock slipping in without much pressure. I moved it most of the way in and out very slowly and carefully, until I felt him relax and loosen up. As I increased the pace of my strokes, I bend forward and reached around his body. I felt his cock with my right hand and it was really hard. I stroked it, as my left hand reached his chest and grabbed his left nipple, twisting it. Steve moaned in pleasure, and I continued to fuck him in long slow strokes.

Steve's ass felt wonderfully hot and grabbed really tight on my dick. I was already on the edge, when I felt his cock stiffen up in my hand and the muscles in his butt tighten even more. Steve let out a short cry, more like a whoop, as he forcefully came into my hand. His orgasm sent me over the top and I exploded in his ass. I came in about six or seven jets of sperm in his ass, my knees weakened, my senses totally leaving me. The next thing I remember was leaning against the wall of the shower, feeling the water on my softening cock.

We finished our shower, washing each other with our hands again, all the way from top to bottom. He got out first and I turned the water off and followed. Steve got the towel and dried me off, following his example, I did the same. As I finished drying off his feet, I stood up, put the towel around his shoulders, wrapped him up and hugged him. He put his arms around my waist, grabbed one with the other and just let them hang there. We stood there, just hugging, for the longest time, and I just couldn't let go. For the first time in my life I felt complete, I felt safe and comfortable, having that person stand next to me. I felt his breath on my neck and his cock rising, pushing against my leg.

"Mike," Steve whispered, "I think I owe you a favor!"

"Let's go back to bed," I answered.

We walked back to the room, me leading him by the hand, and sat next to each other on the bed. He pushed me gently backwards and I laid on my back on the bed, propping my waist by pillows, as he positioned himself between my legs. He reached over, spreading my ass-chicks and lightly rubbing my asshole. It was still moist from the shower, as was his dick, so he decided to go at it dry.


We lay there, in silence, for a few minutes. I was not exactly in the best mood, waiting to hear what he had to say, but I sensed that any action from me at the moment will not do the situations any good. Indeed, if there was something to worry about , it was too late and the best I could hope for was finding out exactly what I should be looking forward to. That I would find out sooner or later anyhow. On the other hand, if there was nothing to worry about, I would be best advised to take it slow on the kid: I liked him, I wanted him, I wanted more of him and it would do wonders to listen to him, at least once in a while.

Just as my thoughts shaped up, he stirred. "Mike, I don't even know how to say it..." he started. I stayed silent, not moving but just looking at him. "I can't!" and his eyes filled with tears.

"Can't what, baby?" I asked gently, wiping the tears from this face with the back of my hand. "You can tell me anything, anything at all. I promise, I won't be mad at you, or anything." The later I wasn't so sure of, but what good would it have done to tell him otherwise? "Listen to this," I continued. "I feel I should tell you: last night was something really special for me. I don't know what it is, I don't how it came about to be that, but it was. I think there is something about you, and it just makes me... I don't know how to explain it, but I hope you understand, or at least will with time."

As I finished, he looked at me, tears filling up his eyes. I slowly moved my head forward and kissed his eyes, lightly on the lips, continued down, kissing every part of his face, his neck and moving down to the chest, I stopped at his cherry-red nipples, giving one a squeeze and forcefully sucking on the other one. He moaned loudly, but I couldn't understand whether that was from what I was doing or from his hurt and indecision. I honestly did not intend for us to have any more sex, and by no means not any more unprotected sex, at least not until he told me what the fuck was the story with him and STD's because there obviously was one. As I moved my lips and tung all over this upper body, licking and sucking, all those thoughts evaporated from my mind. I could feel Steve throbbing shaft against my chest, and I was in no better shape.

I moved down between his legs and took his heavy balls into my warm, wet mouth. I continued to roll them around in there, as my hands moved his legs apart and begun to caress his inner thighs. I continued doing so for a couple of minutes, but and wouldn't stop till he actually begged me to take him in my mouth. "Oh-h... Mike, au--uh-h! This feels so great! Suck me, suck me, please!..." he moaned, as I let go of his balls and moved my face over his shaft. About that time my hands have found their way underneath his legs and under his ass. Just when my warm, wet mouth was enclosing the head of his cock, my hands spread the cheeks of his ass and the index finger of my right hand found its way to the hot pink rosebud of his ass. I stretched his pucker with my finger and deep-throated him at the same time. I didn't mean to send him over the edge just yet (well, for that matter, if I've given it at least a half a second of thought, I would have never let him cum in my mouth), but, before I knew it, he was coming in my mouth with the God-knows-what-number orgasm of the day. To my amassment, the action got me heated enough and his orgasm brought me up to the top, letting me down in yet another very powerful orgasm practically without stimulation.

I collapsed on the floor next to the bed, completely "sexed out" and unable to move for the time being. My brain was the first part of my body to return back to operational condition: 'Oh, Christ!' was its first reaction. 'What the fuck have you done! The fucking kid probably is HIV positive and has a whole bouquet of other STDs just for you! When are you going to fucking learn, finally!' While my brain was having this sort of pleasant exchange with the rest of my body, I more or less fully recovered: at least enough to get back onto the bed and lay down next to Steve. I hugged him once again, kissing his neck.

"Mike, you are the best!" he whispered in my ear.

"Not bad yourself, kid," I replied smilingly. "If you could just tell me what the fuck is between you and STDs, it would make my life a hell of a lot better."

He visibly tensed once again, but I seemed to have ignored it. It was about time I made him spill his guts on the topic if I ever wanted to hear anything from him on any other, not to mention finding out the answer to
this, rather peculiar question.