Gay Erotic Stories

My Redneck Roommate, Part I His name was Toby, and he had come about the ad. I stood in my doorway looking at him and my first thought was, "This is not what I had in mind when I advertised for a roommate." For one thing, he was too young-probably no more than about 20. That would make him a good five years younger than I am. And for another, he was blue collar. His tee shirt and his jeans were as blatantly K Mart as the shit kicker, work boots he had on. In a primitive, sweaty way I suppose he was actually kind of handsome-slim and muscular, with bright blue eyes and an open, uncomplicated face. But handsome isn't what I had in mind either. What I wanted was a respectable, well educated professional who appreciated the finer things in life but couldn't quite afford them-someone like me. So I ran an ad in the Los Angeles Times, hoping to find a kindred soul who might be willing to split the rent. Instead, I got Toby. But he had an ingratiating manner, and partly because he caught me off guard by just appearing at my door one Saturday morning instead of telephoning ahead, and partly because no one else had responded to the ad, I found myself showing him around the condo and even trying to convince him of its advantages. "This would be your room," I said. "As you can see, the rooms are all a pretty good size. And of course, you'd have the run of the place. This is the living room. There's a patio out there. It's not very big, but it gets good sun. I like to drink my coffee on the patio in the mornings. We're far enough away from the valley so we don't get much smog. I don't know what we'd do about food; I never had a roommate before." He stood in the middle of the living room, looking around and scratching one armpit reflectively. "Can I move in this afternoon?" "Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself," I said. I must have been out of my mind, but somehow I agreed for him to move in that day. I didn't really have anything against the guy. He was clean; he had a steady job; and he paid me two months rent up front, plus a deposit. Maybe I felt guilty about my initial negative reaction to him because he was so obviously lower class. It's not that I'm a snob; I just don't know how to talk to those people. Still, as I settled into bed that night, I had a nagging feeling that Toby was not going to be the unobtrusive presence in my household that I had hoped for. Somehow, he was going to upset my routine. I'm a quiet man; I lead a quiet life. And I don't like things that upset me. Sunday is my favorite day of the week. I picked up the newspaper at the front door the next morning and continued on to the kitchen, dressed only in pajamas-although I wondered if I should be wearing a robe now that I had a roommate. I put the coffee on and was staring out the window, not thinking about anything in particular, when I heard footsteps behind me. Toby padded into the kitchen, wearing a bright smile-and nothing else. "What a great day!" he burbled. "I slept real good. How about you?" He had brought some food with him the day before, and he took a quart carton of orange juice from the refrigerator, put it up to his mouth, and drained it in about four gulps. Then he wiped his face on his hand and belched. I know there are people who sleep naked, but I don't believe I'd ever actually met one-or who belch-or who walk around in public with a throbbing piss hard on. I tried not to stare. He had a rangy, powerful body-moderate hair on his chest, but a forest in his armpits and his crotch. He was circumcised, and his cock stood high against his belly-thick and sturdy, with a hugely flaring head. His balls hung loose and low, as hairy as the rest of that part of him. "I have to piss," he announced, swiping one hand over his torso and making his erection bounce, "-just as soon as this thing goes down enough so I can bend it." He turned and left the room, displaying muscular buttocks with more curly black hair sprouting from between them. After a minute or two I heard his stream hitting the water. "Walks around without a stitch on," I thought to myself, "and doesn't close the bathroom door. Not a very class act." "Hey, what are you doing today?" Toby asked, returning to the kitchen still barefoot and bare chested, but zipping up a pair of jeans. "Not much," I replied. He looked sympathetic. "I'm about broke too. I can't afford to do nothin' either." That's not what I meant, but I didn't try to explain. He took out his wallet and peered into it. "I've still got sixteen dollars. How about if I get us some beer? We can lay out in the sun and get shit faced. It'll be a good way to get to know each other." At that point I wasn't sure I even wanted to get to know him-much less get "shit faced" at nine o'clock in the morning. But I'd already said I didn't have anything planned, so I couldn't think of any graceful way of getting out of it. "I'll pay for half the beer," I offered grudgingly. "That's okay. I can handle it." While he was gone, I changed into bathing trunks, then went to the patio and stretched out on one of the chaise lounges. I was vaguely uncomfortable about his misunderstanding me. I suppose it was natural for someone from his background to assume that the only reason I wasn't out raising hell on a weekend was that I couldn't afford to. And it was generous of him to insist on paying for the beer. But it put me under obligation. In a few minutes Toby returned, carrying a case under each arm. I don't know how he bought two cases of beer for sixteen dollars, but I didn't bother to ask if it was imported. "One for you and one for me," he announced cheerfully. "Let's get totally fucked up." He broke open a can of beer for each of us, stowed the rest in the refrigerator and went to his room. Moments later he strolled out onto the patio, mother naked again. He sprawled easily across the other chaise. "I ain't got a bathing suit. Back home in Indiana we used to swim bare assed down at the cow pond. Lately I ain't been to the beach much." The patio was fenced in, but it wasn't a high fence. Anyone walking by could look in-but of course no one walks in Los Angeles. "You could wear underpants," I said. "I mean-you don't want to get sunburned." He nodded agreeably. "I might have some underwear. My mom gave me some last Christmas. But I ain't looked for it for a while." I sighed. No pajamas, no bathing suit, and no underwear. What next? Toby took a long swill of beer, adjusted his balls, and stretched languorously in the sun. "This is great," he smiled. "This is just perfect. "Actually, no," he corrected himself. "'Perfect' would be getting my cock sucked too. But the beer and the sunshine ain't bad." I sighed again. No pajamas, no underwear, and no couth. "And good company," he added. Again I felt guilty. Despite his lack of breeding, he did seem to have an instinct for manners-of a sort. I fell to musing about whether a property owner can be held liable if someone is arrested for indecent exposure in his backyard. Toby finished his beer and went off to the refrigerator. He came back with another one for me too, but I wasn't ready yet. He stood beside me and clapped a rough hand on my shoulder. "You're falling behind, man. Hey, what's the matter? Did I get the wrong kind?" I turned to tell him I usually drink only Pilsinger Dark, but when I did so I found myself staring into his hairy crotch. I'm not used to people thrusting their private parts in my face, and I got so flustered I couldn't speak. Fortunately he didn't seem to notice. He had his head thrown back and was disposing of another beer. He scratched his balls-only inches from my face-and I turned away. The boy might not have any sense of decency, but I certainly did. Toby finished his beer and wandered across the yard to a pile of mulch I had had delivered a few days before, but had not yet spread on my flower beds. Without bothering to turn his back, he let loose a noisy stream, then shook himself vigorously and headed back to the kitchen for more beer. "What am I going to do with this animal?" I thought to myself. "He isn't even housebroken." Toby returned with another round for both of us and looked disappointed when he saw I still hadn't opened my second. "Shit, man, you ain't even tryin'. I thought we was gonna get drunk together. It won't be no fun if it's all by myself." I smiled. His grammar might be atrocious, but his heart was kind. Not many people seem to want me to do things with them. "It takes me a while to get going," I said. "What's your hurry?" A dark look flitted across his normally sunny face. He strode over to the chaise lounge and punched his fist into the upholstery. It made a surprisingly loud smack, and he shook his hand as if it stung. "I'm so fuckin' horny," he said, "I can't wait to get drunk. I want to be so shit faced I couldn't get it up for a five hundred dollar whore." He flung himself across the chaise, picked up his cock between thumb and forefinger, and examined it critically. "Look at that," he complained. "It's gettin' hard again. I jerk off all the time but it don't help. What do you do when you get horny?" I didn't reply at once, partly because I was embarrassed at what was happening between his legs, and partly because I don't have an answer. The truth is it happens to me too-more often than I'd like. But I try to keep my passions under control. After all, we're human beings, not animals. Only I didn't want to say that to Toby. In his crude way he'd shown concern for my feelings, and I didn't want to put him down. My eyes lit on my beer can and I picked it up and drank. I even managed a small belch. "Let's get shit faced," I said. I don't normally use vulgarities, but I did it for Toby-and it made me feel surprisingly masculine. He lifted his beer in a silent toast and drank along with me. That made me feel good, too. I'd never been "one of the guys." My parents died when I was very young, and I was raised by an aunt. At school the other boys had always frightened me a little. They were so rough. Over the years I'd kind of fallen into the habit of relying on myself for company. I'd never had a real friend. Toby lay a few feet away-his eyes closed, his hard-on pointing at the sky. The sun beat down and he was sweating. Each time he lifted the beer can to his mouth I could smell his armpit. I'd been raised to abhor body odors, but for some reason Toby's didn't seem unpleasant. "It's hot out here," he said, getting up. "I'm gonna take a shower. When I get back you better the fuck have finished those beers." He left, and in a minute I could hear water running. I had two and a half beers to get through and I swear I downed them in two and a half minutes. For some reason, it had become important to me to live up to his expectations. When I finished I went over to the mulch pile and pulled down my trunks. For the first time in my adult life, I pissed outdoors-right where Toby had. I must be getting drunk. I don't usually behave like that. Toby returned, looking even more obscenely naked wet than when he was dry. Drops of water sparkled on his chest and in the hairy forest that grew below his belly button. He handed me a beer and noted my empties with approval. "That's better," he said. "I don't like to drink with no goddamn pussies." "Well I'm certainly not a-I ain't no pussy," I said. "The fuck you're not," he answered with a grin. "What are you wearing them trunks for? You're afraid somebody'll see your pussy, ain't you." "I am not! I mean-I don't have a pussy." The dark look flitted across his face again. "Me too," he said. "I ain't got no pussy neither. Not since I left Indiana. "Piss on her," he added after a moment. "I hope she's happy with her goddamn lawyer. I hope he drives his puny little dick into her every night. I even hope it's big enough to touch the edges." He turned back to me. "How come you ain't bare assed? It's a pretty day." I shook my head. "I couldn't. Not out here. I just wouldn't feel comfortable." He looked at me with genuine puzzlement. I don't think the concept of modesty ever crossed his mind. I looked back, and I was puzzled too. I appreciate Mozart, and I collect Lalique. Toby probably couldn't tell a Rolex from a Timex. I had a bright future with my investment firm. What could he look forward to, except menial construction jobs. I should have pitied him. But instead, I was feeling something more like envy. I wanted to lie naked in the sun. And sleep without pajamas. And scratch my balls. -the way Toby did. I stood up abruptly. "I'll get the next round. Let's get totally fucked up." After that it all begins to blur. I can remember a few things. I remember putting sun tan lotion on his ass. And once we took a shower together. That must have been after the sword fight-when we stood only inches apart and pissed at each other-right out there in the yard-in front of God and everybody. And I know that eventually I took my trunks off. Toby cheered and slapped me on the ass. That made me feel good-like I'd scored a goal for the team. I'd never played sports, but I used to watch them sometimes on television. I wanted to have something to say at the office when the other guys were talking about the Orioles playing the Forty-Niners. Or whatever. Sometime late in the day, Toby got sick. He'd gone over to the mulch pile to piss, and he just kind of collapsed. I ran over to him. I must have been naked by then because I can remember his bare skin against mine. I held his head while he puked. Then I wiped his mouth with my hand. I'd never touched vomit before. But it wasn't bad; it was Toby's. I pulled him to his feet, and he hung on me like a rag doll, burrowing his scratchy face into my neck.. "Fuck her," he muttered. "I hope he sticks his puny- His voice trailed off and he stared at me with glassy eyes. "What was I saying?" "I think it's time you went to bed," I said. "But I ain't got no one to go to bed with," he lamented. "She won't fuck me no more. All she wants is that big house in the suburbs. And his tiny little dick inside her. Well, she ain't gettin' much. I seen him once in the showers." He held his thumb and forefinger a short distance apart and tried to focus. "About that big," he said. "I know he can't give her no satisfaction. And she used to beg me for it. She'd go down on me and suck it until I thought my nuts would explode. "And then we'd fuck. "Oh God, I need it so bad." I led him to the bathroom and washed his face. He was frankly out of it by then. He flopped onto his bed and was snoring by the time I left the room. I staggered back to the patio, stopping along the way for another couple of beers. I was drunk-but not yet fucked up. I wanted to get fucked up; wanted to lose control. Toby had bared his body and his soul to me. How could he do that? I'd never told anyone how I really feel. Of course, what he'd done was stupid. He'd fallen in love with some girl back in Indiana-apparently from a higher social class-and she had rejected him. Probably it was just a physical thing for her. Toby was, after all, an exceedingly virile young male. But now he was hurting. I don't give people that kind of power over me. I'd never let anyone get close enough to hurt me. I'd always played it smart. I guess. But as I continued to drink, images of Toby and the girl from Indiana-writhing in sexual ecstasy-flooded my mind. Again I felt that odd mixture of pity and envy. Had I really played it safe? Or was I hurting too? Eventually I had to piss, so I got up and went to the bathroom. When I came out I thought I'd look in on Toby, to see if he was all right. He lay on his back in the slanting late afternoon sunlight-one arm behind his head, the other across his chest. His legs were slightly spread. The room smelt of stale beer and sweat. I stood beside the bed and looked down at him. A heavy beard lent an incongruous maturity to his boyish face. His chest rose and fell gently, nipples soft and flaccid. His pale penis floated in a curly black sea. I thought again of the girl from Indiana-and what she used to do to it. Toby sighed and shifted in his sleep. One of his testicles rolled against his thigh. Bits of our conversation came back to me. "'Perfect' would be getting my cock sucked." "I jerk off all the time, but it don't help." "Oh God, I need it so bad." I bent closer and inhaled his musky aroma. A drop of moisture clung to the end of his flaring glans. I laid my hand on his hairy thigh, easing upwards until my fingers brushed against his scrotum. I could feel the heat of his balls and the pent up power within. I stopped and looked back at his face. His breathing had become shallow and more rapid. His cock jerked once and began to swell, lengthening and stiffening with each beat of his heart. He moaned softly and tightened the muscles of his ass-thrusting into the air. He was dreaming. I wanted to be part of Toby's dream. Swiftly I bent and took him in my mouth. His cock head was warm, and so soft and smooth. Further down, his shaft hardened rapidly against my lips. I moved my head up and down, in a delirium of sensations I had never known before-excitement and desire, fear and disgust. This was where he pissed. It was dirty. And I had it in my mouth. What would my aunt say? Fuck my aunt. I took him deeper into me, swirling my tongue over the scar where they had cut him when he was a baby. I cupped his hairy balls in my hand, thrilling to their weight and their softness-Toby's balls-his strength and his vulnerability-mine to hold . . . to caress . . . and to fondle. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Oh God! He was awake. Oh no! Oh please, God. No! I couldn't meet his accusing eyes. I broke away and fled to the bathroom-crumpling to the floor, clinging to the toilet, crying and vomiting. I had taken a man in my mouth. I was a fairy-just like the boys at school had always taunted. I retched again and again-staring down at the drool that strung from my lips and wanting to follow it-wanting to drown in the cold, hateful waters of the toilet. I was a pervert. I didn't deserve to live. Then I felt a presence behind me. Toby lifted me up and held me in his arms. "Hey man, it's all right. You didn't mean no harm. I'm sorry I yelled at you. You just startled me, is all." The cold tile of the bathroom wall was against my ass. His warmth was in front of me. Suddenly I knew which way I had to go-knew what a part of me had known all along. Knew that I wanted Toby. But I'd just gone and ruined everything. "Do you hate me?" I asked tremulously. "Shit, man! I don't hate nobody." "But what I did just now . . . .You're not even mad at me?" He grinned. "You must not have had your cock sucked very often. It don't make you mad." He reached down and took my shriveled penis in his hand, stroking it gently. I gasped-as forbidden delights flooded my body. "See?" he said. "It ain't all that bad." "My aunt told me I'd go to hell if I ever let anyone touch me there. He grinned again. "I can't think of no better way of getting there." He led me to his bed and stretched out beside me, his arm beneath my head, his warm body against mine. "You got a girl friend?" he asked. "Not right now," I answered evasively. "Have you ever had a girl friend?" "Not really." He was silent for a few moments. "You got a boy friend?" "Certainly not," I exploded. "What kind of person do you think I am?" "The kind that was suckin' on my dick a few minutes ago," he answered mildly. "It ain't an unreasonable question." When I didn't reply he leaned forward and peered into my face. "Oh shit! You're cryin' again, ain't you?" "I am not. I've just got something in my eye." But it was true. I was exactly the kind of person Toby thought I was. And nothing could change that. I knew because I'd tried so hard-for so long. I began to sob. He would hate me now. No matter what he had said back there in the bathroom, he would hate me. And I didn't blame him. Because I would hate me too. Toby squeezed my shoulder. "Hey, it ain't so bad-being queer. A lot of guys are queer." "But I don't want to be queer," I blubbered. "I want to be like everyone else." "Well you ain't," he said. "And you ain't never goin' to be. So maybe you just better learn to like yourself the way you are. "I like you," he added simply. But for some reason that only made me cry harder. Toby went back to his earlier line of questioning. "If you ain't got a girl friend or a boy friend, what do you do? -just jerk off?" "I used to," I admitted, "-back when I was a kid. But it made me feel so guilty I had to quit. I haven't done it for a long while." He whistled softly to himself. "I didn't know people like you existed. How long was you playin' with my dick before I woke up?" "Only for a little while-and I'm real sorry. I don't know what came over me." "I do," he answered. "You was drunk and you was horny. Ain't nothin' too surprising about that." He lay silent for another few moments, then appeared to come to a decision. He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled noisily. "Lay back against them pillows," he commanded. "You're gonna remember tonight for the rest of your life." And I will.