Gay Erotica
"Exultation" a sex story by Peter Rosier
I went through life for those unending, intermediate weeks as though through a fog. Nothing out there was real; the real life was here, inside me, with my hopes and dreams. Everything outside that I saw, read, wrote or heard, unless it related to that dream of mine, was base, false and only a distorted image of the truth: my truth, as I saw it.
I had never had those thoughts before. To all intents and purposes I was a happy and conventional guy with a good job and a loving set of relatives, all entirely conventional. I had made love to girls, but never made that final step into unholy wedlock. But there is nothing unusual in that.
Then I found a site on the Internet that made me stop and think. No conventional porn this; no porn at all, in fact. Just a site devoted to those men who wanted to meet other men and were happy to be explicit. In detail, it was there. The pictures...and small ads, personal ads, from men who wanted to be loved by other men, who needed stern masters or willing partners, lovers to adore and to be adored by.
And I looked and I read and I wondered. This parade of penises, this bewilderment of balls; a concentration of cocks and a triumph of testicles; they were all there. At first I dismissed such feelings as crass, stupid and weak. Later, as I realized I could not control the urge to type that URL into my browser yet again, I told myself it was all just something for a writer to study, an inside view on a specialist topic.
But still, slowly and reluctantly, I moved on. To the sites that showed young men with cocks the size of truncheons, supposedly caught unawares as they masturbated alone or entered other men. The gorgeous she-males of Thai fame who were so feminine above the waist and rampantly masculine below. Who had found extraordinary ways to enter their straight-looking male lovers.
Until finally I acknowledged that I too needed that experience. I had developed this desire to fondle another man's cock and balls; to feel him lovingly hold mine; to dip my mouth to his proud penis and feel its bulk grow between my lips.
So I studied the websites; the gay dating sites and the personal ads. But there was no-one there, no-one who attracted me or, if they did even vaguely, they were too far away to visit. I placed my own ad, "Bi-Curious Male Seeks Instruction....” and waited for results. I checked my email twice, three times a day. My heart leapt at the sight of messages in my in-box only to be dashed by spam and assorted rubbish.
Nothing.
I studied each new ad that was placed and found a half dozen, maximum, that seemed vaguely suitable. I wrote, they replied - sometimes. Then, despite or maybe because of my increasingly desperate tone (there are so many timewasters out there), nothing again.
Finally, a new ad. A guy within easy traveling distance seeking gay or bi-curious males for sexual experience, no emotional obligation, nothing serious. I wrote, he replied; I emailed my pictures (explicit), he sent his (face only - but nice); still, he laid claim to a seven inch cock. I wanted that so much in me. I was cautious, he was too. We did this dance of “would you, could you?” Did I like sucking and kissing, he asked. I asked when and how he arranged his various rendezvous. And every time during the day and night that I thought of him I felt my heart leap and stutter and my cock stiffen and get wet: embarrassingly so, in fact.
We arranged to meet at a hotel. A Travel Lodge sort of place. Industrial outskirts of town, totally anonymous, quick turnover of guests, pay in advance, and no-one cares what you do or with whom.
I got there first, picked up the card key from the desk, phoned him to say “room 37, come straight up when you arrive.” Walking down the corridor, I was intensely aware of my heavy feeling cock swinging against my thigh. Afraid then. Afraid he wouldn't show, afraid he WOULD show and I'd have to face up to the reality of my fantasy. Then there was a tap at the door, I looked in the spy hole, yes it's him, open up.
He came in, taut, nervous. Looked around like it was maybe a trap. We shook hands, started to relax. He was nearly like his picture but older by maybe five years. But he was still younger than me. I'd brought beers, we drank from the cans, tried to relax. Started to chat, so you found the hotel OK; how far did you come; how was the traffic? Nothing really personal; nothing about the service he offered and I wanted. Finally I asked, “Have you had much response to your advert?” He said, “Yes, a few inquiries.” No more, clammed up. I didn't push it. I said, “Have another beer.”
Bit more at ease now after fifteen minutes. I realized that he was as nervous as me. I didn't think he had done it before with a man, either. He was just as bi-curious as me. I said, “Shall we have a shower together? Good way to break the ice.” He hesitated, and then agreed.
I walked to the side of the bed, kicked off my shoes and pulled off socks, tee shirt over head, trousers off, just left underpants. Purposely wore tight ones with a nice bulge, a nice WET bulge by then. I slid these down. Funnily I wasn’t shy. I used to be an art class life model; maybe that helped.
I hadn't looked at him but he'd stripped, too. He looked a little lost. I led the way into the bathroom and turned on the shower, adjusted the flow and stepped in. I put out my hand and held his as he stepped in after me. Not much room! It felt good, though, like I'd imagined. I said, turn round, I'll soap your back. Rubbed soap over his shoulders and down his skin, smooth, not hairy and few blemishes, I liked that.
His skin was lightly tanned, not dead white, just an attractive shade. He was surprisingly good to touch; I had thought I might falter at this point but no. His muscles felt tense.
Got down to his buttocks. Soaped over and around his cheeks. Then parted them and put my fingers inside, soaping gently around his arse. He stiffened and moaned a little but didn't pull away. I finished off by rubbing down his thighs, calves and feet all the way to the wet, splattered shower tray.
I said, “Turn round.” He did. He looked dazed, but probably, so did I. Soap again, shoulders, chest (not hairy, good!), belly and pubic hair -- dark and curly, not too much though. I lathered up and worked in there, he moaned again. His cock was bigger now, no question. I soaped up again and ran my fingers up and down his shaft, from root to glans. He wasn't cut. He wasn't seven inches either, but so what. I was careful, I didn't want him to come too soon. Not yet, not in the shower. Suddenly, I thought I'd been so carried away with the process of washing him that I'd forgotten the obvious: that this was the very first time (say it louder, THE VERY FIRST TIME) I had ever touched another man like that. And I was doing it without hesitation, with enthusiasm in fact. Result!
I said, now me, and turned to face away from him. I felt his soapy hands down my back, quicker than I washed him but I wasn't complaining. Down, down to my cheeks. He opened them and rubbed quickly inside, not lingering but still...And down to my feet. Then I turned and he worked down my front to my belly, my cock. He kind of hesitated then slipped his hands around me there and soaped me well. I thought I heard him give a sigh (of relief?) above the sound of the water. Then going down my legs was just a breeze.
We were out of the shower. Big towels, white, soft, very clean, I gave Travel Lodge that. He rubbed himself down, I dried myself; he was quiet. I asked, “OK?” He nodded. I was dry then, so was he. I took his hand, he didn't resist. I thought, I'm taking the lead and all along I thought he was the experienced one. Oh well. I led him across the carpet to the bed and pulled the covers back. Then I squeezed his fingers, let go and walked round to the other side where I slid into the crisp, cool sheets. I propped myself up on my left elbow and watched as he slid in, his cock swinging low and loose. I could watch that now; even admire the view, no embarrassment.
We looked at one another and I put out my right hand and stroked his shoulder, then ran my hand down his arm and on to his waist. I could see him harden and I felt that I was stiff too. I tugged him gently towards me and he came easily as if he had been waiting to see if that was the right move. His free hand reached over to me and went round my shoulders. We kissed.
I slid my hand down into his groin and, greatly daring (for me!), grasped his cock and balls. I felt that rush of wonder and the adrenaline hit me as I did what I had been dreaming of for quite a while. His cock grew further in my fingers so I knew at least his body was enjoying the experience. I slipped my hand down and cupped his balls, gently separating them with my thumb. Wow, these were big! I thought back to all those pictures. Anyone given the task of photographing these gorgeous balls would be so lucky. And here I was, actually holding them! I squeezed and he grunted.
His own hand slid across my chest and down and he held my cock, too. A bit tentative at first, then stronger. His fingers were soft; sensitive but strong. He stroked and squeezed me in his turn.
I slid round on the bed, 69 style; the sheets were all rumpled now but who cared. I thought, I'm going to tumble him just as I've dreamed. My lips went to his cock and his to mine. I could sense him still hesitate but, contrary to what I had feared, I felt no such reluctance. His hard cock slid sweetly between my lips and my tongue began caressing his wet tip. Both my hands now held his taut buttocks, pressing him deeper into my mouth. For his part, I could feel him sucking at the very tip of my cock. I hoped I wouldn't come too soon. I let him slip out of my mouth and moved my lips to his balls where I managed to maneuver his sac entirely into my mouth and suck on his lovely balls which felt just like plums in a bag. The wet tip of his cock rubbed gently on my cheek.I felt him start slightly as my teeth grazed his scrotum and his hand clutched my penis that much harder.
I moved my attention back to his cock and slid it back into my mouth but deeper until it was almost down the back of my throat. I could begin to feel the pressure build up inside him and in me, too. Suddenly he spurted and his thick luscious cream filled my mouth. I swallowed and swallowed, he seemed to spurt forever! I couldn't really recall the exact taste afterwards: salty and smooth, perhaps. I was too busy at the time enjoying what I had so long wished for. My own orgasm came then and I could feel the pressure release as semen exploded from my engorged cock between his lips.
He didn't swallow but he was doing well, I thought, not to pull away. Clearly he was holding me in his mouth until I had finished when he discreetly spat into a tissue. But I was happy. I had taken him in my mouth just as I had dreamed and felt another man's loving fingers on my balls, his lips on my cock and my sperm entering his mouth.
We lay back then, panting, exhausted. I think we were both relieved that we had done it. He smiled and reached over to hold my hand. I thought I would cry.
We lay like that as post-coital tristesse sapped our strength and daylight faded outside the hotel window. He dozed gently, I lay and watched him. The bedclothes were swept back to reveal the curve of his side, his shadowy groin with his semi-erect cock and big-boy balls. I could see the tip of his cock was wet again with a little drop of pre-cum. Was he dreaming of what we had done, I wondered, or what we might do next?
I felt my own penis harden as I thought of the options for another love making session before we parted. Would he agree to take me from behind, penetrate my tight arse, let me feel his sperm inside me again?
Or might we need more time to work up to that?
Originally published November 2008
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.