Gay Erotic Stories

“Hi Mr. Ferguson!” The voice came from behind me as I got out of my car. I turned to see who had called my name and there stood a handsome young man, about six feet tall, well built, early twenties, dark hair, deep set eyes, dark eyebrows, clean shaven face and a knock ’em dead smile. I didn’t recognize him and wondered how he knew my name. He must have realized this because he spoke again as he approached with his hand out. “It’s me, Alan. You remember. I used to hang out with Geordie in high school.” He moved right up to me, into my space, as they say. He was uncomfortably close to me and I took a step backwards. He smiled. I wondered if he did it on purpose. It sort of put him in control. I took his outstretched hand. He gripped mine firmly and shook it. Geordie, of course, was my son who was now in his second year at Med. School. I remembered the name Alan, but I had been so busy back then, when Geordie was in high school, trying to earn and save enough money to send him first to college and then on to Med. School, I had very little time to get to know any of his friends. Geordie knew that, and he understood why I was doing it, but it left a void between us that love alone could not fill. When he left home, this second time, his parting words were, “I wish I had gotten to know you better, Dad, and you, me. We could have been friends. There’s so much I wanted to tell you, to ask you about, but you were hardly ever around.” That shocked me. I had dedicated my life to seeing that he had every opportunity I could provide for him, and I realized that what he said was true. I could not remember a time when we were close, when we did father-son things together, not since he was very little. It was my goal that he become a doctor - make something of himself - but was it his? He did well in college, and was doing well in Med. School, but I had no idea if he even wanted to be a doctor. What did he want? I didn’t know. I realized that I’d never even asked him what he wanted out of life. My son was as much a stranger to me as this young man who confronted me on the street. “Sure, I remember you now,” I said, lying, when I realized the young man was waiting for an answer. “You’ve grown a bit since I saw you last. You’re a man now, not a kid.” I was just babbling, of course. I didn’t really remember anything about him except his name. “Are you home for the summer?” I asked, trying to make polite conversation with this handsome young stranger. I don’t know why, but I wanted to keep him with me, even for a minute longer. “You don’t remember me at all, do you?” Alan asked with a grin on his face. He took a small step towards me and I took another backwards. “That’s all right. If you did, you’d know I never left town,” he continued. “I went to work for my father at the store right from school and I’ve been there ever since. I more or less run the place now, and Dad’s thinking about retiring. He wants me to buy it from him, and I’m thinking I just might do it.” Now I did remember him, and his father too. His dad was Frank Henderson, and he ran the hardware store just along Main Street from where we stood. I wasn’t much of a Mr. Fixit, so I seldom went in there. Certainly, not since my wife divorced me. She used to try to get me to do things around the house and had insisted that I buy some tools, but I was never any good at manual stuff. She gave up on me, for that, and for other things too. “As a lover, you make a great carpenter,” she had said once when we were having a fight. I knew what kind of carpenter I was, so the comment really stung. We slept in separate beds the last year we were together and to be honest, I didn’t mind at all. I didn’t even mind that she left. I knew she had stayed with me as long as she did for Geordie’s sake, not mine. “Alan Henderson,” I said. “Of course I remember you now. Like I said, you’ve grown up a lot since the days you were at our house with Geordie.” I wasn’t sure that he had ever been to our house with Geordie. It was a wild stab, but it must have been true. “Yeah, those were the good old days, all right. Geordie and I had some good times together. I didn’t think you even knew I was there. Mrs. Ferguson used to give us lunches after school when I’d go there to study. Least ways, that’s what we told her we were doing, but you know guys, eh Mr. Ferguson? Young and horny, hey? Did Geordie ever tell you about me?” No. Geordie had never told me about him, but for some reason I didn’t want him to know that. Geordie should have told me. I should have been there so he could have told me. “Yeah,” I said. “Geordie told me most things. He told me all about you. In fact, he used to talk about you a lot. We didn’t have any secrets.” “Well, I’m glad of that,” said Alan. “I mean, I couldn’t have told my father. He wouldn’t have understood. He’d skin me alive even now if he knew. He’s always after me to get a girlfriend. He wants grandchildren. Little does he know, eh, Mr. Ferguson?” What exactly was Alan trying to tell me? Was he gay? Was my son gay? Had they been lovers? I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. They were deep dark pools, and I seemed to be losing myself in them. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I felt a stirring in my crotch such as I had not felt in many years. What was happening? Was this young man turning me on? I was springing a hard-on, right here on Main Street. Oh, I masturbated a lot, especially since my wife left, and I bought porno magazines whenever I was out of town. A man needs some release. I liked the pictures of couples best, and I know that I often looked at the men more than the women, but I never thought I was gay, just interested. Was I gay? Was Geordie gay? He must have been. How could I not have known? What kind of father was I anyway? “I’m going for a coffee,” I said, breaking the awkward silence. “Want to join me?” I wanted to keep this boy with me as long as I could. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have an errand to run,” said Alan. “But it’s been real nice talking to you. Brought back some memories of good times. Wish I had someone I could talk to, especially before, when I was kinda mixed up about things. Geordie was lucky.” “I’d like to hear some of those memories, if you have some free time,” I said, my face now showing my anxiety. Alan looked a little startled. “Hey man, you didn’t know, did you?” he stammered. “You didn’t know Geordie was gay. Holy shit! I should never had said anything. Fuck, Mr. Ferguson, I’m sorry.” “Alan, I want you to understand something,” I said. “I love my son very much, more than life itself. He means everything to me. But after what you just told me, I’ve come to realize that I never really knew him, and it’s tearing me apart. If you could help me get to know him better, to understand him, I’d be so grateful.” Alan looked at me, his face serious. It was like he was trying to decide if I was sincere. Then he grinned. “I’ll come over this evening, if you’re gonna be home. We can talk then. Want me to bring a few brews?” “Thank you, Alan,” I said. “Yes, I’m going to be home, and yes, please bring a few brews.” I would have offered to supply the drinks, but what do young people drink now? Better he bring his own. “I’ll be there ‘bout eight o’clock if that’s okay.” “I look forward to it. Would you have dinner with me? I can cook, you know. I’ve been divorced for three years now and had to learn. Can’t promise anything fancy, but it will be filling.” “My kind of food,” Alan answered. “See you at eight.”