Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volume 1

by Rob Rosen

  I broke the kiss and stared longingly into the blue. “You killed yourself for me,” I said.

  He rubbed his forehead against my forehead. “Isn’t that why you did it, too?”

  “I was a burden. It only would’ve gotten worse.”

  He chuckled. The sound vibrated the air around us. “You always were a pain in the ass, Steve. But you were my pain in the ass.”

  And then a new thought popped into my head. Actually, it popped into my dick, which was somehow miraculously expanding, thickening, until I had a boner that could crack open a, well, a crypt. I stared down at it. He stared down at it. “Think I could still be a pain in your ass?”

  He smirked. “Just to be clear, you just died, I just died, and you’re asking me if you can fuck me?”

  “Just to be clear,” I replied, “I have a dick like a crowbar and you still have one stunning piece of ass, so, yeah, you wanna?”

  “Strange.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “How is any of this even possible?”

  But I already knew the answer. I knew why I came back. I knew why he came back. I knew why I had a crypt-cracking boner and why he did, too. “Love,” I replied.

  “Schmaltzy.”

  “Works for Hallmark.”

  “Point taken,” he said, his lips again finding mine, our mouths colliding in an earth-shattering Big Bang that seemed to rock the very foundation beneath our feet. If we still had feet. If we still had feet that could in fact feel the floor, that is. Still, I could feel him, and that was all that mattered.

  His fist grabbed hold of my cock. I moaned. And as I did so, the air around us rippled. And not figuratively, either. No, there were actual ripples, as if a pebble had been dropped into a still lake. He stroked my prick. Another moan escaped, and this time, as the ripples rippled, the room began to ripple as well, to change. Furniture appeared where there had only been dust motes. A carpet slid beneath us. A brass lamp fluttered onto a table, amber light suddenly illuminating the room. Luminous drapes fell across the windows, paintings popped up, color returned to the walls, spreading like food dye through a glass of water. Lastly, a fire begin to flicker and then roar in the fireplace.

  “Don’t say it,” I said, his cock now in my hand, both of us gleefully stroking away.

  “Strange,” he said, thereby ignoring my request.

  “This must be how it used to look,” I told him, dropping his dick as I fell to my knees. I stared up at him. He was younger looking now, more like when we first met. “It’s beautiful.”

  He ran his hands through my hair as I took him into my mouth, his cock swelling, leaking ambrosia-like droplets onto my tongue. “So are you,” he purred.

  So, yes, to recap, I was blowing my dead husband in a haunted house, the house haunted by, of all people—or maybe make that ghosts—us. And you know what? It wasn’t strange. It was, as I’d put it, beautiful. Different, sure, but beautiful just the same.

  “Can two play this game?” he asked, his cock slamming against my uvula like a battering ram.

  “Mhm,” I replied, mouth full of meat as we maneuvered ourselves into a rather lovely sixty-nine, me on my back, him hovering over me, pumping his prick into my mouth, heavy balls swaying all the while. He sucked and I sucked and the fire roared and crackled. All in all, apart from the whole death thing, it was quite fantastic. Or maybe make that fantastical. Phantasmagorical perhaps.

  He popped my prick out of his mouth and turned his head to the side. “I could suck you forever, Steve.”

  That was a distinct possibility. “Ditto,” I said, instead, pushing the thought to the back of my head as I again pushed his cock to the back of my throat. I tickled the fine hairs around his hole while he pummeled my mouth. My index finger ran laps around his satiny track, dipping into the center to remind it that it would soon be filled with so much more.

  After a while, I pushed myself out from under him, leaving him on all fours, legs wide, balls dangling, cock at the horizontal to his flat belly. I pushed his cheeks apart and dove in, devouring his ass as if it was a last meal—which, yes, was also a distinct possibility.

  I kissed his hole, licked it, sucked it, bit it and hummed into it, playing it like a harmonica as I ran my mouth back and forth across it. I felt young again. I felt renewed. Spirited, as it were. “What do I look like?” I asked him, in between eager slurps on his puckered portal.

  He craned his neck around and glanced my way. “You twenty years ago. The you I fell in love with. The you I still love, minus the…”

  “The cancer.”

  He nodded. The word didn’t sting anymore. It held no power over me as it once did. Chuck, on the other hand, still reigned supreme in my heart. In my soul. Which, perhaps, was all that was left of me. I mean, I felt real, he felt real, but I knew that none of this was indeed real, not him, not me, not the room we were in. But what did that leave? What were we then? What was all…this?

  “Fuck me,” he said, his voice rumbling down his back and into my mouth.

  “Gladly,” I replied.

  I got on my knees and spit into my hand. Real spit, too. It pooled and swirled in my upturned hand. I smiled as I stared at it, as I stared at his ass and his back and his hair, which was longer now, darker. I smiled as I lubed up my prick and his hole, and continued to do so as I slid on in, every nerve ending—real or imagined—shooting off Fourth of July fireworks as my cock disappeared deep, deep inside of him.

  “Fuuuck,” he moaned, rapturously.

  “Fuuuck,” I echoed as I slid in and out, in and out, his chute grabbing hold of my prick, our bodies as connected as our souls, as connected as our lives had once been.

  I spanked his ass as I pounded him, the sound ricocheting around the room, temporarily drowning out the crackling of the fire. Then, with sweat cascading down my chest, I withdrew my prick and rolled him over, the front side even more stunning than the back side, those sapphire-blue eyes of his again drawing me in, drawing me in like they did all those years earlier, like they still managed to do.

  In my cock went, his eyelids fluttering as I filled him up. He smiled up at me and nodded. “Who knew, right?” he panted.

  “Sex in the afterlife?” I grabbed his cock and jerked it in time with my pumping prick. “Not something you read about in the Casper comic books.” I bent down while he craned up, our mouths a centimeter apart. “I love you, Chuck.”

  He sighed. His cock throbbed in my grip. “I love you, too, Steve.” And then all that was sealed with a kiss, a kiss soft as a cloud, a kiss, dare I say, heavenly.

  I pumped faster in his hole, on his pole, my lips tingling as my balls began a steady rise, as the come began to well up. I was close. I could feel it. But how? How could I feel it? Did it even matter how I could? I could and he clearly could, and that was all that mattered.

  And then I came. Man, did I come, a geyser of it spewing into his hole, coating his insides. A split second later, with him howling into my mouth, his cock erupted, come firing up before raining down in hot, molten pellets, aromatic gobs of it splattering the both of us. I pumped harder, harder still, ringing out every last drop, our bodies so united that it was impossible to tell where he ended and I began.

  Then again, we’d both ended, right?

  I stared into his eyes, panting hard as I did so. “Now what, Chuck?”

  “We fuck until the end of time?”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It does, but…”

  The words hung there. The words hung there as I retracted my cock from his ass, as I fell on top of him and covered him in kisses, as I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, at the brilliant crystal chandelier that had somehow appeared above our heads.

  “You feel it, too, right?” I finally said.

  “It’s not real, Steve. Feels real, but it’s not.”

  I turned and locked eyes with him. “But I’m real. You’re real. Our love is real.”

  “Love,” he repeated. “Think that�
�s enough to create all this? To keep us here?”

  I reached over and held his hand. “It created us. It kept us. So why not?” I sighed. “But this, this isn’t real. This is a scary, old house. There isn’t a fire in the fireplace. That chandelier up there is long gone.”

  “Are you scared?” he asked.

  I thought about it for a second or two. “Nope, you?”

  He laughed. “With you by my side? Never.”

  I squeezed his hand. The light from the chandelier started to grow, a brilliant white light that began to envelop the room, the house, us. “No, never isn’t the word for it,” I said. “Forever.”

  “See you on the other side, Steve,” he said, the words echoing out in all directions.

  “Count on it, Chuck!” I bellowed into infinity. “Count on it!”

  GI BLOW

  Mark Wildyr

  The cross-country bus ride turned boring within the first fifty miles. Private Jimmy B. Mackey would have gone home by train if not for the poker game a couple of nights earlier. On the other hand, he’d be boarding an airliner if he’d won the last hand. Now, as a penance for gambling, he’d spend four days and nights on a frigging bus to get back to Tennessee. No matter; Jimmy had looked forward to this day every minute of eight miserable weeks of basic infantry training at Fort Ord, California. He’d hated the freezing dawn beach exercises, where it was too fucking cold to even pull a trigger on a damned rifle, much less hit the target. Maggie’s Drawers were the norm until the sun came up. Then the field jackets, gloves, scarves and crap worn in a vain attempt to keep the piercing ocean winds from slicing out your liver became just so much awkward, added weight to lug around.

  Now he was out! Free! After a two-week leave, he’d report to Fort Dix, New Jersey on his way across the big pond to Germany. Life would be different there. There’d be booze and pretty fräuleins and, better still, good-looking German guys all over the place. In the meantime, there’d be moonshine and family and friends.

  At least the damned bus was big, with plush, partially reclining seats and an inboard head. Jimmy chose a window seat at the rear on the driver’s side a couple of rows ahead of the toilet, calculating that was far enough removed so he wouldn’t catch the smell, yet close enough so everyone wouldn’t know he was flopping out his cock to piss…or whatever.

  He threw his military style carryall in the overhead compartment and sat watching the other passengers board. Great. The seat backs were tall enough to give him a little privacy. Good for stacking z’s when the time came. Every minute asleep was a minute closer to home.

  No one of interest got on until a pert gal in a short skirt and tight sweater slid her trim ass into a seat two rows up on the right side of the bus. A cute college kid flopped down beside her. Might make for some interesting people watching if college boy made a move. But what the hell can a guy do on a public bus?

  When the vehicle ended up only about two-thirds full, he rested a little easier. He wouldn’t have to share his seat with some two-ton fatso. The last person to board was a young guy who looked to be in high school. The kid eyed Jimmy’s uniform as he took the seat directly across the aisle. Funny how people reacted to Class A khakis. Made him feel sort of proud. At the same time, it annoyed the shit out of him because he liked his privacy. The kid smiled, and Jimmy gave him a nod.

  After the driver closed the door and pulled out of the L.A. terminal, all the passengers were at least two rows in front of him except for the kid right across the way. Good! It ought to be a quiet ride, he thought. Jimmy opened the sports magazine he’d bought in the gift shop and started reading as the excited chatter of a new adventure died away to a steady drone. The filtered air was fresh enough to be halfway pleasant.

  Somewhere in the first five pages, Jimmy nodded off, and by the time he opened his eyes again, the light was beginning to go. The kid across from him had scooted over to the aisle to evade the setting sun. Shoulda planned better, sonny boy.

  The kid noticed he was awake. “Army, huh? Infantry?”

  Jimmy nodded confirmation. A couple of rows up, he heard the subdued chatter of the college man and the pretty girl. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “Blue braid on the uniform,” the boy answered. “My brother’s in the infantry. He’s over in Germany.”

  “That’s where I’m headed after a leave. How does he like it?”

  “A lot. He’s in Berlin now, but I think he liked the countryside more. Said things were better a year ago. The Germans are getting tired of GIs.”

  “Yeah, they rub a little raw sometimes.”

  “You mind if I come over and talk some?”

  Oh, what the hell. He held out a hand. “Sure, come on over. My name’s Jimmy Mackey.”

  The kid accepted his shake and said, “Will,” as he moved across the aisle.

  Jimmy told himself that answering a host of questions about Fort Ord and the last eight weeks and Tennessee and the last twenty years was preferable to staring out into the gathering night. At one point, he excused himself and slid by the kid to empty his bladder in the closet-sized head behind him. When he returned to his seat, the bus was streaking past streetlights.

  “Guess we’re supposed to stop here for a rest,” Will volunteered when Jimmy was seated again. “You wanna get something to eat?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  It wasn’t until they were munching on hamburgers at a little Formica table in the restaurant that Jimmy caught on that the kid was giving him glances out from under lowered lashes. After half a day on a bus, he must have been pretty wilted, but that was the power of the uniform; a guy looked pretty good in it.

  His eye kept straying to the chick and frat boy at the table beside him. The guy looked as good as the gal. A jock, Jimmy decided, with a letter in some sport or another. Swimming, probably. He had the lean body for it. After eight weeks of nothing, not even pulling his own pud, he felt himself react. Which is why he was startled when Will asked him a question.

  “Is it true that they give you that stuff?”

  Jimmy blinked. “What stuff?”

  “That soft-peter stuff to keep you from getting horny?”

  “It’s saltpeter. And beats me. Might be in the food, but the cadre ate the stuff, too. Still, there’s no fucking privacy, so you couldn’t do anything even if you wanted.”

  “Didn’t you go on passes?”

  “Sure. But everybody…uh, the girls I met wanted cold hard cash, and I’ve never paid for it in my life.”

  “They were prostitutes?”

  “No, they were whores. Prostitutes have more class.”

  The kid snickered. “Did you do it to any of them?”

  “Nope. They all looked like what they were.”

  At the driver’s first call for boarding, Jimmy headed for the men’s room to drain the last drop of coffee before getting back on the bus. As he finished and was about to tuck it back into his pants, Will showed up and took his own leak.

  Once back on the bus, the kid didn’t even ask this time, just sat down beside him. Neither of them said a word as the bus maneuvered the town’s avenues, running through alternating patches of light and dark. Once they hit the open stretch of highway, Will leaned over to him.

  “Guess it’s not working on you.”

  “What’s not working?”

  “That soft-peter stuff. You were getting big back there at the urinal.”

  “Nope, that’s about normal,” Jimmy said.

  “Wow! That’s normal size?”

  Jeez, was this how the kids talked today? That woulda got you a knuckle sandwich back home, unless, of course, you were in the right company.

  Will ignored being ignored. “I’m pretty big, too. At least that’s what they say at school.”

  “How old are you, kid?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Eighteen, and you’re still talking about cock sizes? Grow up.”

  Will shut up, but he didn’t seem chastised. After another mile or so, he
came back again. “Can I feel it? I’m kinda fixated on big cocks. Looking for the biggest one I can find.”

  “You planning on sucking it or something?”

  “Naw, but I can make it feel real good. And if what you said is true, after eight weeks, you gotta be wanting somebody to do something to it. You don’t like how it feels, just tell me to quit.”

  “Fuck, Will, there’s other people on the bus.”

  “Yeah, but it’s pitch black, and everybody’s in front of us. We can see anybody coming.” The kid didn’t wait for approval. He slid his hand over Jimmy’s leg. “Oh, man, it is big. Can I feel it?”

  “Shit, thought you was!” Jimmy spread his legs.

  The kid was on him in a second. One hand sheathed the rapidly hardening cock running down his pants leg, the other rubbed the GI’s flat belly. Keeping a sharp eye on the front of the bus, Jimmy let the kid play. By the time Will pulled his cock and balls out of the top of his khakis, Jimmy had hit his zenith, as big and hard as he got.

  “Jeez!” Will breathed. “How big is it?”

  “Big enough to do the job.”

  “Were you the biggest one in school? I am, or that’s what they say, anyway.”

  “I hear that I am,” Jimmy said.

  “How about in your squad?”

  “It ranked right up there.”

  “How about your platoon?”

  “Shit, where we going with this? The company? The battalion? King Kong of the Army? How the hell do I know? What’s with you and big cocks, anyway?”

  “I just like big ones. What’s the biggest you’ve ever seen?”

  “For the last time, kid, I don’t go around looking at cocks. Now shut up and do something or else put it away.”

  Will pressed the long, thick organ flat against Jimmy’s lean belly and watched it spring up into the air. He made it dance by tickling the heavy balls. Then he suddenly freed his own cock.

  “Not bad, huh?” the kid bragged.