Gay Erotic Stories

Wildwood was our target. The 'Coney Island' of South Jersey is what it is and is the only place to go when you want to hang out looking for excitement. Franky and I worked for Sears in Receiving and got each other hooked on the idea of taking our three days off on the 4th of July in Wildwood. It's a place for guys on the make and just about anybody who's lookin' for a good time. We took a room in one of the four-story rooming houses and planned to do nothing but soak up sun on the beach and check out whatever came our way. Girls were not mentioned by either of us, which might only be that we're in our late 20's and the panting after chicks is something for teens to do. Really, I guess we just needed some time off in the sun and waves. I guess. I drove my Ford Explorer down and as soon as we got there we got into our swimsuits and hit the beach. Franky is a little under six foot tall and when I saw what he was gonna use for a swim suit, my eyes popped--I never expected to see him wear a skimpy pair of Speedo's. They were purple with slashes of red and yellow. I used to wear Speedo's but caved in to the surfer-style suit. My heart skipped a beat looking at his package and all day long, though there were really neat guys to see, being so near to Franky's cock curled in Lycra kept me sneaking looks his way. Coming out of the water and watching his wet briefs get lowered by crashing waves was such a turn-on that I had to turn back saying I needed another five minutes in the water. Five minutes more to get the hard-on I had for Franky to go away. We went to an Italian restaurant for dinner and then hung out on the boardwalk, did the roller coaster and shot ducks for a try at a stuffed animal. Into a bar for a couple of beers and out again for more people watching. Franky would say anything that came into his head and he was entertaining. But the sun and the boardwalk food and the beer had me drained. Too much sun. We were both ready to head off to bed at about midnight. In our room Franky turned on the radio as we were getting ready for bed. He was wearing baggy shorts and a lightweight hooded sweatshirt. I was wearing my usual skin-tight faded jeans with a 'Robbie's Bar' T-shirt. The music, which was turned up pretty loud, was some big band playing classic stripper music, the one that goes, Da-DAH, da DAHHH, Da-DAH-da-da-da.... Well, Franky is a little looped and is one-off anyway, so he starts taking off his clothes doing a stripper's act. He looked right at me, eyeball to eyeball. The challenge was on! As he begins to pull up his sweatshirt his hips are bumping and grinding and if it weren't just an act he was putting on I'd make for him real quick. When his head reappeared, his hair was all messed up and he really looked hot. He looks to me as if to say, 'Show me what you can do.' I go hardcore with hard nipples showing for the educated and interested and my shirt comes off with stripper boy moves of my own making. Franky turns away from me looking seductively over his shoulder while he opens the button and zipper of his shorts and then right on the beat of the music he turns suddenly and pulls his shorts and briefs down in one move that really told the whole story. Big dick hanging down. One of those that has just recently been hard. The look we exchanged was priceless! My jeans got ripped down and we both looked at each other's cock smiling. The pants and shorts were kicked away and as we got rid of them we moved closer to each other. The meat was on the rise. We were watching each other get hard. Watching each other get hard is hard to do. You love to see it, but you want to work out what hard dick says to do. Franky's seven-inch cock matched mine. He said, "Come." And as he did he took hold of his own cock and reached out to mine. The feeling was divine. Different strokes for different folks. We did some strokes....