Best Gay Erotica 2014 (20 page)

“Don't even think about it, dude.” His balls slap against mine. “Your hole's so loose I could drive a fucking truck through it!” I groan as he grinds deep. “Or my big ol' dick!”

Peter shivers and opens his mouth wider, giving me more of his tongue as he groans against me. I close my eyes, listening to the
slap, slap, slap
of Ricco's balls against my sac, enjoying how my lover enjoys hearing the sound of me being fucked.

Peter's next moan is softer, the shiver deeper. Kyle has taken one glistening hand from Peter's ass to grab the lube. He holds the bottle over Peter's ass and squeezes out another long, clear stream. Peter shudders. He has told me so often how he loves the cold shock of lube inside him, just before he's pierced by a big hot cock. I take his shudder in my mouth, kissing him, kissing and kissing and kissing while Ricco's cock thrusts in my hole, until finally I have to come up for air.

Kyle's grin splits his face. While I was distracted by Peter's tongue, Kyle has covered himself with a thickly ribbed condom. My sweetie is all about sensation. Kyle pours lube on his fat monster. I smile against Peter's lips, kissing him again, my lips curving so much I almost break the connection between us.

Peter's moans are getting louder. Kyle has one hand on Peter's hip, the other guiding his sledgehammer dick in. Ricco is fucking me more slowly now, but his cock is twitching. He's breathing hard. He is close to coming, but he's trying not to bounce me around too much while Kyle is sliding in. Ricco knows Peter needs me sucking his tongue to keep him relaxed enough to take that huge, meaty slab.

Despite our deep tongue-kissing, Peter's body is tightening. Wordless cries vibrate against my lips. Kyle is pressing through
my honey's gate. My body stiffens, too, my ass trying to squeeze Ricco's cock.

“Easy, dude,” Ricco murmurs, stroking my back. He pauses with just the tip inside me, holding me open, making me wait to be fucked again as I force myself to relax my body, relax my mouth. With my lips soft and dripping spit, I shove my tongue in Peter's mouth, breathing with him, helping him keep his mouth open, helping him stay open, keep his asshole open as Kyle relentlessly presses in.

My eyes are open wider than my hole. I can see both of Kyle's hands, one on Peter's hip, one holding his cock steady as he leans forward, spearing Peter's ass. Peter's breath is frantic, his cries almost sobs.

“Jerk your cock,” Kyle growls.

I close my eyes, twist my body so I can reach my cock, ignoring even the heavenly feel of Ricco sliding back through my asshole as I concentrate on the feel of Peter's tongue on mine, the feel of my hand on my cock as our tongues lash deeper, harder, stronger.

Peter's shoulder tenses against me, his hand moving in rhythm with mine. He strains, bearing down. Now he is sucking my tongue, drawing me in. He stiffens, then he is wailing into my mouth, vibration electrifying my tongue as he arches against me. Kyle's fat cock is sliding through my lover's hole. Peter cries like a wounded bird, wordless “eee's” piercing my ears as he trembles uncontrollably against me.

“Yeah, baby! Let me in!” Kyle's growl is deep and unyielding. He knows how much my lover needs the reassurance that Kyle is
not
going to stop—no matter how much Peter yells and shakes. No matter what. My sweetie's ass is going to be fucked and fucked well. His ass is going to be taken by a man who will not hear the word
no
. A man who has negotiated with
him, in advance, that unless
I
say to stop, that man is going to fuck my honey's quivering, clenching hole until it milks the cum through the cocktube fucking him, until my lover howls as his own dick shoots.

Peter shrieks. I come on the sheets, my dick spurting as I frantically suck my lover's tongue. Ricco is laughing, pounding me hard and fast now, fucking toward his own climax as I shake beneath him. My ass is twitching. Ricco knows I'm coming, but that fucker won't stop. He knows that as much as I love being fucked, his dick isn't what's making me come. I'm coming because I know Kyle's cock is finally spearing deep up my honey's ass. Kyle's stiff sausage is tunneling through my sweetie's hole, stretching it so wide and making it burn so bad, my lover's dick can't help drooling. Peter's hand grips the side of my head, yanking my hair until it feels like he's pulling it out by the roots.

I open my eyes to see streams of precum oozing onto my sweetie's belly. His other hand is on his dick, pulling the flushed red skin over his stiff, slick shaft. Kyle is fucking deeply and slowly now. Peter's mouth is finally relaxing. He peppers my lips with light, frantic kisses. His lips are all over the place, like he can't control where they're landing. In back of me, Ricco stiffens and moans, shaking as he slams in deep, emptying himself up my ass.

I shudder through his coming, shake more as he slowly pulls free. I love feeling the difference between the thrust of a hungry dick and the leisurely retreat of a spent one. He steps away, then someone else steps in back of me. I hear a condom wrapper tearing. Lube squirts. A different, tenor chuckle. Jaden. I relax against Peter's lips. Jaden's dick is average, but he has huge, heavy balls and he lasts forever. He lasts as long as Kyle does.

Maybe I'll get to come again when Peter does. I love it when
we come together. And Kyle will make sure my sweetie comes so hard he howls.

Kyle has lifted Peter's ankles to his shoulders. Kyle has one hand on the bed, supporting his weight. The other is wrapped firmly around Peter's balls, rolling them, tugging the wrinkled pink sac as Peter moans and arches up. Peter's balls are deliciously sensitive. He opens his mouth farther, sucks tentatively on my tongue, trembling softly as I moan and press against him.

Jaden's thrusts are deep and rhythmic, each long, slow stroke drawing sensation through the entire length of my chute. He grabs my hips, tipping me forward as he slides in deep—and grinds, right into my joy-spot. I buck up, crying out into Peter's mouth as hot precum leaks through my cocktube. Precum mixed with the last drops from my first orgasm. Fuck, oh fuck, it feels good! Peter sucks my tongue hard, his voice rising as he shudders against me.

Jaden reaches between my legs. He grabs my balls. Tugging. Squeezing. Just the right amount to make them climb my throbbing dick. Peter is bucking against me. Our mouths are open like anacondas, sliding on our spit as our tongues move frantically over each other. An unexpected cry rises in my throat. Jaden's dick is punching my prostate. The cum is rising from my balls, my almost painfully squeezed balls.

Peter bows up against me, his whole body stiff as a lance. His wails move over my teeth. Lava-hot cum erupts through my dick. Then Peter is shaking and howling, bucking against me while I jerk against him, our dicks spurting in blinding, perfect orgasms as I yell until my throat hurts.

Afterward, Peter and I lie quietly against each other, kissing and tonguing, our deep, rhythmic breathing once again perfectly matched as Kyle and Jaden fuck us until
their
dicks are finally spent, too. It takes them a long time, but I don't care. Peter
doesn't seem to mind either. The air is ripe with the smell of sweat and ass and lube. The sheets are wet beneath us, and the voices of our lovers echo in the background. My hole is raw and tender. Peter's quivers tell me his is, too. We grin tiredly against each other's lips, letting our wasted holes bring pleasure to the men who have brought us such exquisite pleasure as well. Once again, we are both exactly where we want to be—sandwiched together as one man.

The one in the middle, together.

ART APPRECIATION

Thomas Fuchs

As Bobby leaned back in the chaise longue, he thought how peaceful it was there, by the pool. Quiet. Up at the house, the guys were talking, talking, talking. Most of the talk was about art. Leo, their host, was a big art collector. The party that afternoon was to celebrate and admire his latest acquisition, a Hockney drawing of palms sheltering a swimming pool; a scene meant, as Richard had explained, to evoke a summer afternoon in Southern California. Bobby thought it was nice but, preferring the real thing, he'd slipped away from the party to bask in the sun.

He'd found a towel and some sunscreen in the pool house, stripped off his clothes—all of them, including his Calvin Kleins, no tan line, please—and stretched out on the chaise. As he went to work applying the cream, he thought that in a way, he was a work of art—his biceps, triceps, forearms so carefully shaped, his sculpted chest, smooth and powerful, the abs he'd worked so hard to achieve—a perfect six-pack. Then it was on to his dick,
with its fine, solid thickness. Richard had joked how it should be registered as a dangerous weapon: “You could beat someone to death with that thing.”

Bobby went from applying the sunscreen to stroking himself, and quickly got hard, that really great feeling, the head pushing out from the foreskin, the whole thing getting pink, then darker, that delightful deep sensation flowing along its length and a tingling in his ass. He worked himself and worked himself, the sun blazing down on him so that the distinction between himself, the sunshine and the world around him dissolved and he was filled with that power surging through him in those delicious, shivering moments before he bucked and twisted and the jism shot out, burst after burst, gobs spattering his chest, then sliding down as he lay back, collecting in a shimmering ivory pool in the hollow between his pecs. He dipped his fingers into it and spread it over his chest and abs, rubbing it into his skin, the rich cream, the finest sunscreen there was; then he lay back, basking in the after-bliss.

Total contentment never lasts for long and after a while his thoughts drifted back to the house and all the sophisticated talk, much of it from Richard. He smiled, wondering if Richard's artsy friends could imagine what it was like watching porn with him, Richard commenting on the models and the action as though it was some kind of art film. He wasn't sure if Richard was serious about this or just joking. Richard was a nice guy, really, all in all. Certainly generous. Fun travel. Good companion. Except that sometimes he went on a little too much, lecturing like he was giving one of his classes. Not bad looking and in pretty good shape for an old guy. Thank god he wasn't fat. Always respectful. Not too demanding. Pretty easy to please, in fact. Bobby certainly had plenty of freedom.

The sound of a bolt turning interrupted his thoughts.
Someone was coming into the pool area through the door from the alley. If Bobby, stark naked as he was, had been less self-confident, he might have been embarrassed and tried to cover himself, but he just sat and waited to see what would happen.

It was the pool man: a good-looking, dark-skinned Latino stud in a company polo shirt and cutoffs. Not tall, but not too short. Good face, high cheekbones. Jet-black hair, carefully spiked. Nice biceps, big chest. Great thighs, big and bursting with strength. Altogether, pretty hot. R
AMON
was stitched in yellow just above his shirt pocket.

Ramon, busy with his equipment and supplies, didn't see Bobby for a few moments. When he did look up and catch sight of him, he stopped dead, was silent for a beat, and then said, “Oh, sorry man,” but he didn't look away from Bobby or his crotch.

“No problem,” said Bobby. He took his time reaching down for his briefs, then stood up and faced Ramon directly as he pulled them on.

What was on the verge of happening next was interrupted by the click of footsteps on the flagstone path leading down from the house.

It was Richard. When he got to the pool, he clearly recognized that he was interrupting something, but he nodded politely to Ramon and said only, “Come on, Bobby. They're serving lunch.”

The meal—a sit-down for twelve, served by a butler—was, in its own way, a work of art: two plates, one a fish-shaped pastry complete with tail and scales, filled with thin, alternating layers of smoked salmon and a truffle-laced pate; the other a fruit dish, leaf-shaped slices of mango arranged around concentric rings of shimmering green kiwi and a heart of strawberry, the whole thing forming a large, exotic flower.

When several of the guests pulled out their phones to take pictures of the meal, Richard said, “You can't capture this in images alone. This art is meant for more than just our visual sense.” Lifting his fork, he added, “Let us fully appreciate it.”

Bobby ate quickly and as the butler cleared his empty plates, he asked their host, Leo, if it would be all right for him to take a swim.

“Sure,” said Leo. “That's what the pool is for. There are suits in the pool house if you want one.” Richard, deep in conversation with the woman next to him, seemed barely to notice Bobby leaving.

As he started down from the house, Bobby was relieved to see that Ramon was still there, vacuuming garden debris from the pool. His shirt was off and his broad back and shoulders were golden in the sun. Bobby's dick began to stir. When Ramon saw him, he flashed a grin that made it abundantly clear that he had been hoping Bobby would return.

There wasn't any small talk between them. No talk at all, in fact. They went into the pool house, a small, somewhat dank concrete room, furnished with a few rattan chairs and pillows.

Still without speaking, both men stripped and stood inches apart, appraising each other, growing increasingly excited by what they saw. Both were magnificent: in shape, well defined and nicely hung. Bobby was shaved; Ramon sported a nest of glossy black hair. Both were semihard.