Gay Erotic Stories

It was a beautiful hot Perth day and I was lying on a sun lounge by the side of Jos's pool at his fashionable home in the suburb of Subiaco. I should have been relaxed but I wasn't. Perth's foremost restaurateur rarely invited people to his house, preferring instead to entertain in the "boudoir" above his restaurant in town. But I'd had the summons and you didn't turn down Jos, you didn't run the risk of angering him. My friend Barry had made that mistake and had been brutally raped by Jos's right-hand man, Peter, while Jos watched. So you can imagine why I was a little nervous lying there with Jos stroking my arm and Peter approaching with two flutes of champagne. He put down the glasses and Jos waved him away. He handed me one of the glasses, sipped from his and slid his hand inside my bathers and squeezed my balls. "I do love your body," he said a little wistfully. "What I'd give to be young again." He gave my nuts another gentle squeeze and removed his hand. "Now, to business. How are your studies going?" I was surprised. Jos had never asked me about a part of my life that didn't impact on him and I wondered where this was heading, because he always had a purpose. "Really well," I replied and it was true. If you read the stories that describe my part in the gay underground scene in Perth, Western Australia, circa 1975/76 - Hot Hitchhike, Mikey and Me, Introduction to an Orgy and the two chapters of my first time in Jos's sex club - you'd think my life went no further than me being mounted by a series of hot men. And, in what was something of an aberration, one hot woman. But between those episodes were long periods when I was celibate, just a normal guy in his late teens trying to make sense of life. I interracted with my family and straight friends, I went to the beach and movies, I kept fit ... however, when I partied, I liked it down and dirty. But what I was scrupulous about was my studies. My mother had died when I was very young and my father worked hard to raise my brother, sister and me. We were proud of him and we wanted him to be proud of us - and a big part of that as making the most of our opportunities. My sister was studying medicine, my brother was a sports physiotherapist with a thriving practice and I had just finished my first year of law. And I'd done very well indeed, even though I was starting to suspect I had little passion for the subject. "I'm delighted to hear it," Jos said. "The world certainly needs more lawyers." He laughed and rolled his eyes to make it clear he was joking. With Jos, it was sometimes hard to tell. "How's that part-time job?" To help with the family's finances, I'd taken an office cleaning job that had flexible hours I could bend around my various commitments. I didn't enjoy it but I liked the relative freedom having a small income gave me. "Oh, it's ok. Pays some bills, buys some little luxuries.." Jos poured some champagne into my navel, dipped his finger in it and sucked on it reflectively. "How would you like to make much more money?" So here it was. Jos wanted me to do something, something that would benefit him and, perhaps, me. "Obviously I would, but how?" "Come and work for me. In the restaurant." Jos's restaurant was a jewel in what was otherwise Perth's culinary rockheap, a stylish, slightly formal place that was expensive but still good value, where people went to be seen, to celebrate special occasions, for very good food and wine and to press the flesh with VIPs. It was not my kind of place at all. "Jos, I know nothing about waiting on tables. I'd be bored 10 minutes into day one." "No darling, I want you to be a wine waiter, a trainee sommelier." Now, that was interesting. My mother had been half Italian and her father had been a winemaker in Perth's Swan Valley. A widower, he'd committed suicide a month after my mother had died of breast cancer, a broken man. But I still had cousins working the winery and I had a good knowledge of wine for a teenager in 1975. "I could only work a few nights a week," I said. "My study load will be pretty heavy next year." "We'll work something out, don't worry." Jos looked at me and his eyes narrowed. Something told me that we were about to get to the real reason for my invitation. "There'll be the opportunity to earn some extra money, some good money," he said quietly. I just looked at him. "There are some people who come to my restaurant for more than just food and drink. I entertain them upstairs. They're mostly people from interstate or overseas who value discretion and are prepared to pay for it. "You want me to be a prostitute." Jos flapped his wrists at me and trilled, "no no no no no!" "You'd be a sommelier but if one of these people - these rich, powerful people - liked you and you liked them, there would be the opportunity to ... to consummate that liking upstairs. For which you would be handsomely rewarded." I put my head back and laughed. But I was also calculating what I could get out of this.

************

The Very Famous Actor from Sydney had me bent over one of Jos's pouffes in the boudoir above the restaurant but he just couldn't get his cock into my arse. I was lubed up and ready for action - this guy was very handsome and it was a complete surprise that he was gay - but he just couldn't get the angle right. "Let's do it with me on my back," I said, something I'd suggested at the start, but he was adamant. "No, I don't like it like that." "Why?" I said, increasingly frustrated. "Because I don't want you looking at me." I sighed. There was a lot of gay self-loathing in Australia in the 1970s, especially among those firmly in the closet, but this was pretty unusual. So I improvised. "We have masks here. I could wear one." He stopped trying to stuff himself into me. "Really? And you'd swear not to take it off? "I swear it. Jos will waive the fee if I do," The VFA sniffed. "I'm not paying a fee. I'm making a contribution." "Of course," I said. In the corner of the room was a cabinet in which Jos kept a variety of toys from dildos to butt plugs to handcuffs and there was a box of masks he used during parties when everyone wore one and you did everything by feel. It was supposed to increase sensation. I took a mask from a draw and held it up: "Very effective. Won't be able to see a thing." I lay on a day bed, placed a bolster beneath my hips and put on the mask. It really did cut out all light and there was a heightened anticipation as I waited for the first touch. I felt the VFA hovering over me. With the bolster beneath my hips, my legs were already in the air and my hole at the right angle. I gasped as I felt his knob press against it and we both moaned as his full length slid into me. Taking away vision was unbelievably erotic and my hearing, smell and touch seemed far more acute. I felt the curve of his buttocks as he pumped, smelt his sweat as he moved on me, heard his moans as he got close. As I felt him move towards climax, I sunk my nails into his arse and took his ear in my mouth. "Cum deep inside me," I told him and he obliged, bucking two, three, four times before subsiding on to my chest. We lay there for about five minutes as I stroked his back and buttocks. When we'd showered (separately) and got dressed, he picked up the mask and asked if he could keep it. "Sure," I said. "A memento." He was halfway out of the door when he turned and said: "You know, I'm really straight. I love my wife and kids. I have a mistress. I love her too. This is just a ... distraction." There were so many contradictions in that, all I could do was smile and nod. When I got back downstairs and resumed my duties, under the disapproving gaze of the other prissy staff who knew exactly what was going on, Jos seemed pleased with me. "Our friend said he couldn't remember when he'd enjoyed himself more. You have a talent for this work. He made a very generous contribution." "Jos, he's a fucking weirdo. Ten minutes after he'd been in me up to the balls he was explaining how straight he was and how much he loved his wife and kids. And his fucking mistress!" Jos grimaced and rolled his eyes. "Oh dear. Yes, he's a bit deluded but if people knew who he really was, his career would be over. His life would be over. It must be dreadful to have to live like that." Jos slipped a role of notes into my hand. "But he pays well and he liked you. Now back to work. The morons on table 17 want another bottle of Houghtons White Burgundy." I'd been working at the restaurant for six months, about three nights and one lunchtime a week and it was interesting enough work. I'd actually learned a lot from George, the Austrian sommelier; not that he, or any of the staff, approved of me. My infrequent, but still regular absences upstairs were widely commented on, although always behind Jos's back. No one dared complain to his face and anyway, their chagrin was largely based on jealousy. All the waiting staff were gay but they were never invited upstairs to the boudoir or to any of the parties, except to serve food and drinks. Any one of them would have loved to be Jos's favourite, fucking the rich, handsome and famous for large sums of money. But that was my job. But it wasn't all champagne and caviar. Jos wouldn't let just anyone have me and I had the right of veto but some of my assignations were less appealing than others. One rich businessman would come in roughly fortnightly with his wife and five daughters and while they were looking at the menu, he'd "just nip upstairs to have a word with Jos". He would come into the boudoir, take off his suit jacket, drop his pants and I'd either blow him or he'd fuck me standing up against a wall. It rarely took more than a few minutes and it was a strange feeling to be serving his wife a gin and tonic with the taste of her husband's sperm still in my mouth. Other couplings were more exotic. An Arab aristocrat liked to fuck me and then have me fuck him while his valet, who I suspect was also his boyfriend, jerked off in a corner. A handsome Englishman got me to spank him with a table tennis bat and roughly shove a butt plug up him before I had to jerk off and blow my load over his face. But I had to wear leather gloves and I was never allowed to touch him with my bare hands. A rich farmer from the eastern states arrived with his busty mistress and wanted a threesome, which turned out to be tedious because they were both so boring. The idea was that the farmer would fuck me and then I'd fuck her but she had no personality, a fat arse and bad breath, so I failed dismally. They didn't come back. If you're the judgmental type, you probably think I'm disgusting and amoral and I can't really argue with you except to say that I was building up a significant bank balance. And I was now a man with a plan. My suspicion that I was not in love with the law had been confirmed in my second year of studies and even though I was doing well, I'd decided to drop out. My father was disappointed but, as someone who worked in a job because he had to, not because he loved it, he understood. I told him I wanted to travel and work out where my life was going and he understood that too. It was something he'd always wanted to do but had never had the chance. His approval came with only one condition: a year after leaving, I had to come home and tell him what my long-term plans were. Of course, there was no doubt about my short term plan - get to Europe and have as much sex as possible. And I wanted to do it in style and for that I needed money, the sort of money I was earning whoring for Jos. I reckoned another three months and I'd have enough. And then fate stepped in and smoothed my path. A contact of Jos's from the Netherlands came to Australia and was lavishly entertained. He was perhaps 12 years older than me, a tall, blond man called Ralph, not quite gorgeous but attractive in a rough, outdoors way. He liked boys and girls and for the first part of his visit, Jos lined him up with an attractive local woman whose family he was friendly with. I don't think there was much spark there but she showed him around and they got on well. However after Ralph returned to Perth from a business trip to Melbourne, he started paying me more attention. It got to the point where we both knew we were going to fuck, it was just a matter of when and where. There were about 10 of us at a barbecue and pool party at Jos's house when Ralph came up behind me, slipped his hand down the back of my bathers and massaged my buttocks. "You have a beautiful bottom," he said in his heavily accented English. "And I have a beautiful penis. I think they should get them together." It was a nice line and I was more than ready so we went inside, where I douched in Jos's beautifully appointed bathroom before going to Ralph's room. He was right - he had a beautiful cock, long, thick and smooth like a cartoon cigar and I sat on the edge of the bed and took it in my mouth. It tasted of sweat and pool water and he stroked the back of my head as I moved my lips up and down the shaft. So much of my paid sex at the restaurant had been rushed and it was bliss to be able to take my time and make love to this interesting man. He laid me down on the bed and we had a long, slow 69 before he turned around, moved up the bed and dipped his big balls into my mouth. Then he turned around again, spread his cheeks and asked me to rim him. His arsehole tasted warm and musty and it pulsated to the touch of my tongue while he gave small moans and moved his hips in a circular motion. By that time we were both ready for fucking and he arranged a pillow under my hips, spread a generous amount of lube on his cock and around my hole and dropped down on to his elbows. He smiled and put his tongue against my lips at the same time he put his knob against my hole. Then in a perfectly timed entry, his tongue entered my mouth at the same time his cock entered my arse. It was exquisite, surprising, slightly painful and very, very hot. He was a great lover and we fucked in a variety of positions: me squatting over him, him squatting over me and dipping his cock in and out of me while I had my knees pulled up to my ears, on my back again, standing and finally doggie style where he picked up the tempo and I could feel the strength and potency of his cock as he rammed it into me. "I'm cumming," he gasped over the slap slap slap of our sweaty bodies and he pushed his cock in, kept it there and held my waist tight, his breath coming in short sharp rasps. As his cock bucked inside me I reached between my legs and jerked my own tool furiously, taking only 10 or 15 strokes to bring myself to a huge climax and, regrettably, dumping a sticky load on to Jos's expensive Egyptian cotton sheets. Later, as we lay in that wonderful post-sex glow, Ralph rubbing my stomach and me cupping his balls, he said: "You know, I have a big house in Amsterdam. If you ever wanted to visit, you must stay with me. I'd be happy to show you around." It was an invitation I'd gleefully accept and one which would introduce me to the wonderfully louche gay centres of Europe.