Gay Friendship Sex Stories - Page 36

On this slightly overcast Friday I'd left for my lunch break and driven down the street to a car dealership where a friend of mine, Kriss, worked as a mechanic. Kriss had often come by with some of their electronic diagnostic machines and such to have them repaired. We'd become fairly good friends over the past several months, and we usually went for lunch together about three times a week. Influenced as I was by the stories I'd heard about the "wilds of the big city", I was initially surprised that Kriss was the only openly gay person I knew. (From what I'd heard I had expected the city to be teeming with gay people.) Kriss was what I'd call rather good-looking; he had dark hair, light blue eyes, and sharp, handsome features.
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DAVVY'S STORY: I took all our correspondence as fantasy. I knew that I was ticklish, but I hated it as a kid, and didn't really want to experience it again. But the subject had always interested me, so I read the stories on the internet. I had never even dreamed that I would write to anyone, much less develop a correspondence with someone. But that's exactly what happened. I have no idea on why I had told Rob that he could tickle me. I didn't really mean it. But now, he is less than a half hour from me, and I'm getting nervous. And also very excited.
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The afternoon was no more pleasant than the morning. Mr. Gregson, the president of the bank, was determined to throw up every obstacle he could. To him it made no difference that our client owned 77% of the bank's stock. He referred the First National Bank of Hurst as "my bank," and in 42 years of moving up the ranks from teller to bookkeeper to every other job in the place, he'd come to believe that the bank really was his. It made him no difference that the bank hadn't paid a dividend on its stock in eight years. The way he saw it, the bank was his own personal realm, and he was the Lord and Master of that domain.
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"Great..." and I begin to tell him about the bars and the guys and the Honolulu Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. Bacon sits in his chair and I sit on the sofa bed. With my Reeboks off I put my feet on the arm of the chair. Soon my toes are massaging his thighs through his jeans. We do this all the time. I rub him with my toes as he sits there getting hotter and hotter. Soon he says to me "Why don't you take off everything except your shorts, you've been in those clothes a long time." Of course I comply, in our relationship it is usually Bacon who calls the shots. We both like it that way. As I strip in front of him he admires my boxer shorts. I always try to wear interesting underwear when I'm going to see Bacon. We both like that too.
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It took a couple of minutes, but his cock started to respond, although he didn't move at all. I could feel his dick growing quickly as I continued to play with it all the while jostling his balls. I carefully took my next move by putting my finger inside the fly of his shorts and felt the hot, hard skin of his now-throbbing dick. (I was sure by this time he was awake and aware of what was happening, but he pretended to be asleep). I stroked the hard rod and tried to push it down to the opening along his leg, but before I could do that I felt a spurt of cum as his cock sprewed forth its jism on my hands. I was surprised at how fast he shot his load. I quickly took my hand away from his groin, just as he moved and woke up!
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The teachers did a lot of socializing among each other. I was single, but they quickly found out that I played bridge, and I was sort of "adopted" by a married couple. He was the town doctor, she taught part time, and our fourth was the guidance counselor, Betty. Fortunately, Betty was in her 40s so it wasn't them trying to match me up. I also started receiving invitations from parents, which surprised me. The first time I was invited out to the Indian reservation, by the parents of one of the girls in the class, I found it to be a whole different world.
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I told him to leave his house at midnight and come here. He could wear pajamas, because that would facilitate our doing what he had in mind. He had mentioned some pretty kinky things. He wanted a spanking, a blowjob, and anal sex. In that order. To be honest, I was rather shocked when Brad told me he wanted to be spanked. I said, "Aren't you a little big for that?" He vehemently protested. He said that spankings turned him on, just like wearing lingerie turned some people on. This launched a discussion about spanking.
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A woman in the elevator kept looking at my crotch and I almost wished I cared. I got to the door of the apartment. Hollow steel, hard, cold, very quiet inside. I inhaled and pressed the bell. Not a sound from inside. I rang again. Nothing. Maybe he was in the shower. I was about ten minutes early after all. I decided to wait a minute and ring again. It was one of those bells with a spring loaded clanger mounted right in the door below the peephole. If there really was anyone home they either heard it or they were dead. The minute was up and I rang again. This time I heard footsteps but they were behind me, not inside the apartment. Then a door opened behind me and I heard a voice "Nobody lives there you know, they moved out about 2 months ago."
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I had been lusting after Don ever since he and Ted lived across the hall from me in the college dorms. He was about five- eleven with dark brown hair and eyes, and a moustache which covered a very sensuous mouth. A softly rugged guy with an exceptionally nice body, Don was also very low-key, which added to the cool sexiness about him. Plain and simple, he was very much my type -- a real hot son of a bitch -- and I wanted his cock rammed down my throat.
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I also began looking at his body more and more. He had a broad smooth chest with big brown nipples, firm butt and muscular legs just dusted with hair. I thought he was very handsome, and found the differences between our bodies attractive in an odd way. I wasn't sure why, but I became more and more curious about what I couldn't see. What was he hiding? One day I was laying in bed beating off when I heard him heard him coming back from work. While he unlocked the door, I had enough time to get under my covers and pretend I was reading a magazine. We talked for a while, then he said he was going to take a shower. I watched as he got ready, trying to catch a look at his smooth butt or crotch. As usual, he kept covered and I saw nothing.
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