Gay Erotic Stories

Disclaimer: The following story contains adult subject matter. If you are under the age of 21 you should not be reading this and it is illegal for you to possess it. If you read beyond this point, you are claiming to be 21 years of age, and that it is legal for you to possess adult oriented material. This is a sexually oriented work of fiction. If sex between consenting adults, homosexuality or therein is offensive to you, DO NOT READ IT! By reading beyond this point you are accepting homosexuality and adult oriented Material willingly. What follows is a chapter of a series called Psyched Out. It is celebrity and other fantasies in a confession type setting. These stories are not to imply that the persons involved are gay. They are homosexual fantasies about people who may or may not be gay. Consider them a wish. Psyched Out Twelve: David Duchovny by R. A. Swain "Hi Doc, glad you're back. How was your vacation?" "Very nice. I enjoyed getting away--" "Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, enough about you. I'm still dealing with my residual feelings for Bob, the guy who hurt me more than I ever thought I could be hurt. I know I haven't talked very much about him, but that's because I really enjoy talking about my sexual fantasies." "We can talk about this Bob when you're ready." "I know. Sometimes I feel like I want to spill my guts about the whole thing, meeting him, his ex-wife, his marrying the girl I introduced him to, his trying to kill me to keep his ex and current wives from finding out he's bisexual. I just want to get it all out in the open, or get it straight in my mind, but then it just hurts me so much I just want to die. Do you know what I mean?" "I understand." "Good, cause then we can talk about this really hot fantasy I have about David Duchovny. Okay, I know he's kind of mainstream for my tastes, and most of the guys I fantasize about are better looking and more, more, I don't know. They aren't like him. Of course this is a different type fantasy. "It starts on the set of Red Shoe Diaries. Don't ask what I was doing on the set, or how I got there, this is a fantasy after all. Anyway, we're sitting in his trailer talking...." 'Why didn't you want to sit out on the set?' I ask him. 'I just wanted to be alone,' he says. 'But I'm here.' 'I mean, I want to be alone with you. If that's okay with you?' 'Yes, it is. I just don't understand.' 'Neither do I. I've got a beautiful wife, a great job, and suddenly I wanted to be with you. It's almost like I have to be with you.' 'I'm flattered, but why me?' 'I know this is had to believe, but I feel compelled to be with you. I know people are always speculating about my sexuality, and stuff like that, but I've never been with a guy before, and I saw you on the set and just wanted to have you.' 'How do you know I'm gay?' 'Word gets around.' 'Word?' 'Stephen Baldwin isn't known for keeping secrets. Nor are some of the other guys you've encountered.' 'How do you know about that?' 'You learn a lot from shows like X-Files. I asked some discrete questions. Remember the theory of six degrees of separation? You're only two degrees from Chuck Barris.' 'The Gong Show guy?' 'And one degree from Ted Turner.' 'And this means what to me?' 'It means, I want what others have had.' 'You sweet talker you.' 'No, I didn't mean it that way. I don't even know the first thing about making it with a guy. Something inside of me just has to know, and I want you to be the one to show me.' 'Well, I can understand wanting to learn from the best,' I say. 'Of course I've never been with Chuck or Ted. They're not my type.' 'Am I?' he asks. 'You've got the look. Especially in black boxers.' He smiles, stands up, unzips his pants and pulls them off. He stands before me in a white T-shirt and black silk boxers. 'Like these?' he asks. I inhale slowly. 'Exactly like those.' 'I feel at a disadvantage, almost naked. Why don't you take off those jeans?' I stand up and begin to undo my pants, when he moves closer to me, and places his hands on my fly. 'You've got a hard on,' he notes. 'So do you,' I reply, looking at the tented boxers. His hands work to undo my clothing, as his lips press against mine. I feel his tongue roughly thrusting into my mouth. His hands are working roughly over my body, pulling my briefs off and fisting my erection. He is jerking me off and pushing me down on the floor at the same time. He breaks the kiss. 'I've go to know what it's like to be inside of you,' he says. I've been groping his cock, but haven't seen it until he pulls back and strips off his boxers. It springs upward toward his belly and to the right slightly. He has a big mushroom head, at least three inches round, and a long thick shaft. He pulls my face to his crotch. 'Suck it, get it wet. I want you to lube it up so I can fuck you,' he orders. I do as he says, discovering the first cock in my life that may be too big for my mouth. He thrusts into my throat, choking me, but he doesn't stop. He continues thrusting, slowing slightly until I catch the rhythm. 'Yes,' he moans. 'Suck it like a good slut.' He drops a tube of Wet next to me. 'Get your ass ready for me.' Another order. For someone who hasn't been with a man this guy knows his way around. 'That's it. Get it lubed up for me, cause I'm gonna plow it.' He pulls back out of my mouth, and grabs me, harshly turning me around and tossing me over the arm of the couch. He quickly positions himself behind me. 'I've got to have you, now.' With that he enters me, without waiting, slamming into my ass. It's the worst pain I've ever felt, but it soon dissolves to a kind of pleasure as he takes a slower rhythm and pumps his massive tool into my ass. It feels good, even though I don't like anal intercourse, but I don't ever want it to stop. I know he's going to come soon by the way he's breathing. His hands are under me, playing with my cock, keeping me half hard. 'Yes! Yes! Oh God, Yes!' he shouts, pulling his cock out of my ass and spewing hot cum all over my ass, back and over my head onto the couch. He pulls me tight against his body and jerks me off. I shoot my load in a few seconds and he releases me. 'That was cool. Can you stick around until after the next scene?' I'm exhausted. 'Yeah,' I say. 'Good, I want to try a few more positions and stuff. I can really use this for a role I'm considering. I might even suck you off, if you do a sixty-nine with me?' "If? Who are you kidding? Go! Act! Get that fuckin' scene over!" I say. "Well Doc, I guess fantasizing about a stud like Duchovny makes me forget, for a few minutes, about Bob and the pain he caused. Catch ya next week. It looks like you're going to have to get some release of your own."