Gay Erotic Stories

Mirror Image, Part 2 The first couple of months found both of us for the most part preoccupied with our respective jobs. My company was continually on the grow and was going through another growth spurt after the first quarter plateau. Greg’s new company was delighted to have landed him and viewed him as a seasoned veteran in the business and was eagerly heaping on the clients. Greg was eager to prove himself and craft a titanium image of his sales ability. As time permitted, we both settled into somewhat of a routine around home as well. Our social lives were actually brief glimpses of rest periods from our corporate incarceration. We both really liked our jobs and our careers were an integral part of our life, even mingling casually into our limited personal time. Then, early one Saturday afternoon, we both arrived back home at the same time from our respective morning catch up sessions at the office. We looked at each other, both realizing we had absolutely no pressing issues, problems or concerns—we were free to screw around however we chose. Since it was a typically hot and sunny South Florida day, Greg suggested we head off for the beach. It was the perfect way to waste a great afternoon. Within a few minutes we were geared up and headed off to South Beach. Hell, I didn’t care, Greg could look at the girls and my eyes would discretely undress the guys. If we didn’t get burned crispy red, we’d have a splendid time of it and wash down a few cold ones too. The parking gods were in our favor, having found an ideal space to ditch the car within the first 5 minutes of landing on the beach. This day was on track to become one we’d remember. Minutes later, we had staked out our beachhead and were spreading out the blanket and towels. We slathered on some sunscreen and flopped down on our backs, taking in the instant warmth of the intense Florida early summer sun. I kind of drifted off a bit, not thinking of anything, emptying my head of all thought. No this was living! A short bit later, I was jarred from my catatonic meanderings by a playful foot placed to my ribs. As soon as my eyes were able to focus from the sun, there towering above me was the unmistakable olive skinned frame of Arthur, with his partner Aaron immediately behind. Jeff and I had been close friends with Art and Aaron for a couple of years, and I hadn’t seen nor had any contact with them since Jeff’s memorial service. Art didn’t say anything at first; Aaron just offered a sheepish ‘hi’. I instantly felt a bit guilty for not having stayed in contact, but managed a genuinely sincere greeting. Instantly the awkwardness was shattered. I nudged Greg, and re-introduced him. In true form, Artie quipped that Greg certainly looked a hell of a lot better in trunks rather than a stuffy suit. Aaron just smiled broadly and nodded his agreement. This didn’t phase Greg at all, he laughed and joked that he’d rather be stripped down to this—or less any day of the week. He then jovially invited the two of them to pull up the some sand and join us. The four of us spent the rest of the afternoon having a great time. Aaron had brought a deck of cards and when we’d tired of lying around, we played a few rounds of poker. Between drawings, true to form, Arthur and Aaron took in the ‘scenery’ and cast their votes as the two legged testosterone beachies paraded by. To my amazement, Greg began to take an active interest in the scenery too, offering his additional commentary—mostly on the guys, but also on the few women that strolled by too. I was glad he was enjoying the company and had certainly made himself comfortable with my friends, but was also keenly aware of his increasingly flippant comments, mimicking Aaron and Artie. When we’d definitely had enough of the beach and needed to wet or whistles with some suds, we all got up and headed off the beach, across A1A and to the nearest watering hole. In a matter of 30 minutes, we’d each sucked down a couple of drafts and were cooling our heels, while continuing to take in and comment (sometimes not too subtly) on the eye candy parading up and down the sidewalk. We weren’t too obvious—that’s what everyone else was there doing as well. Suddenly, Aaron perked up and announced that he felt like dancing and wanted to head off to “T” a marvelously gay way to spend a weekend afternoon. Sundays were usually better, but there were certainly a good crowd on the beach and any venue should be busy enough. I wasn’t sure just how Greg might react, but that thought evaporated when Greg resoundingly declared the idea to be ‘smashing’ and stood up. The rest of us did likewise and headed off to our party destination a couple of blocks away. Hell, Greg had been out with Jeff and me before, and I seemed to recall Artie and Aaron had seen him out with us one time or another, so why not. We were on our way. For the next three hours, we got our fill of discs, dance and draft. Greg was really cutting loose and traded off dancing with both Arthur and Aaron. To my amazement, a handsome patron came to our table and asked Greg to dance with him. Greg just smiled, got up, and away they went. Two tunes later they’d returned, Greg whispered something to the guy, who turned and left. Greg just sat down, grinned and said he was having one hell of a good time, and that I really had some great friends. He made a noticeably sloppy toast to us all. It wasn’t long after that, we’d collectively decided on getting some dinner in our stomachs. Aaron wasn’t about to eat dinner without having cleaned up from the beach, so we all decided that’d be a good idea and headed back to our respective homes to spruce up. Greg and I had just finished dressing and were having a quick cocktail when the doorbell rang. If Aaron was a bit prissy, he sure was fast in the bathroom. After one round of libations we were all off to soak up some Italian—food that is—as Aaron so aptly put it. The dinner was exceptional—or maybe we were all just exceptionally hungry. The evening flew by and after a couple of after dinner drinks, the combination of the afternoon and the beach, t-dance, and the week’s work (although forgotten), had taken their toll. It was time to pack it in. Arthur sensed this and agreed it was time to ‘blow this pop stand’. Aaron was noticeable giddy at the mention of the word, which prompted a horselaugh out of Greg. Yep! It was really time to go! In sequence, we all began to slowly, and albeit stiffly, stand up. To my amazement, Aaron in normal form forgot himself, leaned forward and gave me his signature hug and a kiss. He then turned to Greg and did the same. Greg just welcomed him with open arms, giving him a solid hug—and then a smack planted firmly on the lips. I wasn’t sure whether we’d attracted much attention, the area was contemporary and the restaurant had a good mix of all types of people, hell—why was I worried if Greg wasn’t. We bid our farewells and before we’d managed to exit the restaurant, we’d also made plans for brunch Sunday. Well—why not—it was high time we actually had a real weekend. My thoughts suddenly flashed back to the last ‘weekend’ I’d planned and its horrific outcome. Greg’s eyes must have captured the startled expression written on my face, but he said nothing. On the way home, nothing was said for a good five minutes or so. Only as we neared the condo, Greg finally spoke. “You know…you really have some genuine friends…you and Jeff must have had some really great times with those guys. The four of us together reminded you, didn’t it?” I couldn’t say anything. My throat had involuntarily choked shut. Greg paused for a few more seconds, then continued, “I wish Sara and I had had what you guys did. I mean friends and all.” “What are you talking about? Sure you guys did. Think about when you two met, the birth of your daughters.” I offered, trying to emphasize the positive before Greg slipped into pessimism or worse… “Oh shit, yeah, at first it was great. When Cathy was born, it was a miracle. When Kelly came along, it was a mistake. That’s when everything changed. It was down hill from there. Anyone who knew us socially, Sara drove away. I though the move to Palm Beach would change things. It only got worse. I’ve been living alone for years.” I was relieved we had made it to the garage of the building, and put the car in its space as quickly as possible. It was time to get out and get moving. Perhaps stepping our of the cool car’s interior and meeting with a blast of humid night air would jar Greg’s thoughts. We both got out of the car, doors shutting in unison, and headed for the elevator. Moments later, we were safely behind the front door. Greg grabbed me, pulled me to him, hugged me and gave me a kiss—right on the lips—and held it there a bit too long. “You’re the best brother and best friend any guy could ever have”. I said nothing—actually my mind was just trying to digest what the hell had just happened. Then Greg added, “Hey, I need a nightcap. How about you?” Actually I didn’t—neither one of us really did, but if Greg was pouring out his innermost thoughts, who was I to deprive him. I fixed us a topper and we sat on stools around the kitchen bar/counter in the dark, where Greg began to thoughtfully ramble backwards in time—years ago—the two of us at home. To hear him tell it, I was something kin to a saint! This was too much to swallow all in one night. I delicately let it be known that I really was loosing it and that we’d better hit the sack soon, or we’d hate ourselves in the morning. Greg easily agreed and I considered the matter resolved. We both headed off to our respective rooms. As I lay there, I heard the shower in Greg’s room. Actually, this was Jeff’s official room, and more memories came flooding back. If only Jeff would walk out of that shower and into my bedroom… I closed my eyes thinking how such a great time, good friends, and being incredibly close again to my brother, could suddenly leave me shivering as if an ice pick had been thrust through my chest… I lay there idly dreaming of being in that stateroom waiting…for the shower to stop…for Jeff… I don’t recall how long it was that I remained lost in my thoughts...it was seemed so real…in every detail...including the silence of the running water… “HEY! YOU AWAKE?” I felt a hand tugging at my left forearm…a bolt of lightening flashed across my closed eyelids…the voice a jolt of thunder…I’d crossed over to the other side? An electric shockwave shot through my body. My eyes were wide open—a body stood before me, silhouetted against the moonlight flooding the room from the hallway. I caught my breath as reality crept into my reeling head. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to sleep in a room by myself. Remember the night that tornado struck that house at the end of the block back home?” Thank you, Jesus! It was Greg. I was relieved, probably had had a couple of years shaved off my life, and was both instantly angry, yet totally confused… What was he trying to say…I’d never seen him like this---yeah---since that horrible storm in our childhood. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I stayed under the covers. After all, I’d slept naked for years. Jeff and I always did. I found myself scooting towards the center of the bed. Greg was leaning towards me, saying something inaudible. He was pulling back the corner of the covers. He was climbing into my bed. I felt the mattress yield to his weight. He was now lying next to me. I felt his body turn towards me as he spoke softly and deliberately, “You’re the best brother any guy could ever want…I love you…” With that his mouth found mine. I felt its warmth. He pulled me close. I felt the warmth and dampness of his freshly showered body—he wore nothing. He said nothing, just held his position. My body, my mind, my thoughts had been ripped from fantasy to reality and then to some sort of surreal limbo… I became aware of my natural response to such an intimate and special moments in my past… I felt my self-control slip away…I was yielding to what—Jeff—my GOD--G R E G??? My body was shaking…I wasn’t cold…wait...it wasn’t my body that was shaking…it was Greg’s. I became aware of his short breaths…nervous breaths…and then of the heaving of his chest against mine…and now the straining of his crotch against me. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide it…apparently he didn’t care…should I ? To be continued,