Gay Erotic Stories

By Goeff & Tim (as told to D.B. Reed) GEOFF- I heard the doorbell ring and almost didn't answer it. That week following the funeral was like a blur to me. There had been so many phone calls and visits from well- meaning people all expressing their sorrow at my "loss". Little did they know how ironic it was that Sheila was killed in that accident on the very day that I'd planned to call Barry (our old family lawyer since I was in college) and begin divorce proceedings. Yeah, I guess I felt a certain amount of guilt over it. I wanted out of our marriage, but I didn't really wish her to be dead. We should never have gotten married in the first place. I knew she was sort of unstable back when we were dating in college, and I'd decided to break it off on the night that she told me she was pregnant. She gained fifty pounds with the first kid and never lost it. With the second child three years later she packed on another 60. That meant that the petite little spit-fire I'd married at 23 had turned into a blimp in less than five years. That wasn't the reason I wanted to end our marriage, and there was no "other woman". I just needed to get out! I'd hoped to arrange a joint custody agreement for the kids. At the moment they were at their grandparents for a few days following the funeral. We'd decided that was best for the time being. I needed to get back to work and wouldn't have nearly as much time as my folks do to give them the constant attention they needed right now. Like I say, I almost didn't answer the door that time but finally decided there was no way to escape another "kind word" or tuna casserole. I opened the door and almost didn't recognize him at first. He was out of his uniform and didn't have his name embroidered onto the left side lapel, but finally it clicked to me who this was. Tim (yeah, that was his name) was a mechanic from the garage where I took my Mercedes for servicing. Being a Volvo technician, he'd never actually worked on my car. "Do you remember me Mr. Rogers?" he asked, and I told him I did. We shook hands and he told me how sorry he was to hear about my wife's death. He went on to say that he'd just worked on her Volvo a week before and felt that he should've caught any problem in her car that might have caused her accident. "Hey, you can't blame yourself" I insisted to him, explaining that the police report cited "driver error" as the reason for her driving off the cliff-side road. "If anyone's to blame it ought to be the bartender at that restaurant she and her friends went to for lunch, the one who gave her the third martini then let her drive home". (Of course, I knew that Sheila had been able to pack away more than 3 drinks over a period of a couple of hours. A woman of her considerable size could absorb lots of alcohol before it affected her, and she'd been building up quite a tolerance lately). "Please, come in and sit down" I said to the mechanic, feeling that I was now comforting him. "Okay, but just for a minute, I don't want to intrude Mr. Rogers" he replied. I insisted that he call me Geoff and offered him a drink. "No thanks, I'm driving remember" he said, but that shouldn't stop me. I poured myself another scotch and sat down next to him on the sofa. "Nice place you have here" he said, and I thanked him. "I designed it myself" I said, not really bragging but ....well, sort of bragging. "No kidding!" he said. "I wish I had talent like this". "Ah, but you do" I told him, relating that I can't even change the oil on my car. "I've always admired you guys at the shop, you do such professional work" and he seemed pleased at the compliment. "So, how are your kids holding up? Are they okay?" he asked, and I said that they were doing as well as could be expected. "Good thing they weren't with her when.... well you know." Tim said, adding that he would have felt responsible if they had been hurt. "C'mon, you've got to stop blaming yourself" I said, admitting to him that I'd been doing the same thing for a week. "Yeah, you look pretty wasted man. Hey, how about a diversion? Look, I've got tickets to a Laker's game tomorrow night and my brother just backed out on going. How'd you like to go instead?" he said, and I almost turned down his invitation. "What the hell, why not?" I finally said, deciding to get on with my life. "Tell you what, why don't you come by early and I'll throw some steaks on the grill. Come right from work and you can shower and shave and change here". "Okay, that's a great idea" he said, and he tucked the tickets back into his back pocket. That's when I noticed the tiny tear in his jeans, just a little hole right near the pocket. Poking out that hole though were tufts of the thickest and blackest hair I'd ever seen. It was in a location that should've been covered by underwear, meaning that he wasn't wearing any. Somehow the effect on me was almost hypnotic. I couldn't keep my eyes off that little tear with the hairs poking out and I felt myself begin to stiffen. Oh-oh, with a cock as big as mine (damned near 11 inches long) that could be embarrassing. Good thing I was still in my good slacks and under shorts that helped to conceal my growing erection. After he'd left I recalled that I'd invited him to shower, SHAVE and change the next day before we left. It must've been an unconscious thing that I'd assume he would want to shave his rough day-long growth. His five-o'clock shadow was as thick as many guys have after a week. I stood there in the living room wondering if all of Tim Morgan was as hairy as his face as that bit of his hairy butt that poked out the slit in the jeans. Suddenly I couldn't wait until the next afternoon. TIM- Yes, it worked! I'd wanted to call Geoff Rogers the minute I heard that his wife bought it. It took every bit of will-power I had to wait for a few days and then pretend to show up just to extend my sympathies to him. Those old Laker's tickets were a stroke of genius. I'd stuffed them into my pocket at the last minute, almost as an afterthought in the hopes that he might be a basketball fan. My bigger hope though, was that he'd be a fur-fan. I'd purposely worn that pair of jeans with the rip in the butt, knowing that my hairiness would certainly protrude through the opening. I'd almost shown up there with a low-cut tank top just to show off my extremely hairy chest as well, but figured that might be too obvious that I was coming on to him. The pull-over shirt I'd worn would keep him wondering about that part of my body, but it did show him how furry my arms are. I'd considered shaving before I went over too, but decided against it in hopes that he would go for the rugged, macho look. I'm hoping it's true what they say about opposites attracting. It's certainly true in my case. Damn, ever since the first time Geoff Rogers came into the shop I've been hot for him. His handsome blond looks and green eyes and muscular build. I've never seen him in anything but a business suit so he might end up being really hairy. That would be okay, but I'm hoping that he's smooth all over and hung like a fucking horse! Maybe I'm putting the horse before the cart here (no pun intended) Maybe he won't even go for me, but from the looks of his pig wife he probably wasn't making it with her lately. I've done my research on Geoff Rogers, even followed him around one weekend to see what he does on his off hours. If he's got another woman tucked away he's been very discreet about it. Damn, I wish I could've followed him into his health club that Saturday afternoon a month or so back. Maybe I could've "accidentally" walked in on him in the shower after his workout. The bitch at the desk refused to let me in without seeing my membership card. Of course I didn't have one -- couldn't come close to affording a membership at that place. Rogers is loaded, I know that. He's the most successful architect in town, and he's not even 30 yet. I'll bet his wife was well insured and that he'll get a bundle from that. Maybe even that bartender who served her the third martini will have to cough up some bucks. The only problem will be if he realizes between now and tomorrow night that the Laker's game is out of town. I'm banking on the fact that I can get him to forget about the game before it reaches that point. GEOFF- Everyone at work thought I should have taken some more time off, that I seemed to be unable to concentrate yet. That was true, but it had nothing to do with the death of my wife. No, I couldn't keep my mind off the idea of spending the evening with Tim Morgan. I could give a shit about basketball but it seemed like a good way to open up the door to inviting him over again. After he left I couldn't stop thinking about that hole in his jeans, and I recalled watching him walk down the sidewalk to his car and noticing that the hair on his neck seemed to just sort of extend right into the back of his pull- over shirt. All evening long I imagined to myself what he might look like without that shirt on and I ended up fantasizing about how I'd like to feel my smooth body up against his hairy one. Of course I couldn't' be certain that his upper body was as thickly coated as his butt, but it was a pretty good guess considering how thick and coarse his beard was. I decided to leave shortly after noon that first day back, just because I was so damned excited about the evening. I almost mentioned to one of the guys in the office that I had tickets to the Laker's game, knowing that he would be jealous. If I did that though, he'd corner me the next day and want to know all about it. If I have my way Tim Morgan and I will never make it to that game tonight. I'm hoping I can convince the hot mechanic to forget about the game all together. I'm also hoping it's true what they say about "opposites attracting". TIM- "Hey Tim, you growin' a beard?" one of the other mechanics at the shop asked, and I said that I'd just been lazy that morning and didn't shave. "Hell, looks to me like you've been lazy for a month!" he joked. It's true, I've got a really heavy beard. What wasn't true was that I'd been lazy. No, I purposely hadn't shaved that morning in hopes that it would turn Rogers on when I arrived later in the afternoon. He wouldn't be the first guy who moaned out in delight as my bristly face rubbed his ass-cheeks raw. With any luck though, he'll be the NEXT one to experience that delight. I thought about what clothes to bring along for the "game" that evening. After a good deal of thought I opted for those same blue jeans with the tiny hole in them and a filmy white shirt that was practically see-through. It would leave no doubt as to just how fuckin' hairy I am and if Geoff is grossed out by hairy guys I'll know it right away. The afternoon dragged by, especially the last hour or so until I could clock out at 4:30. My time-card that day showed that I punched out at one second after the time I could do so. Not too anxious huh? I didn't even bother to change out of my overalls, they were dirty and smelly and stained with oil and grime from the work I'd done on three different Volvos that day. I did glance at my reflection in the glass window of the Parts Department and noticed that my face looked really scruffy. Jesus that other mechanic was right. I looked like I hadn't shaved in a month. Hope Rogers likes it! GEOFF- I wasn't sure what to wear, figured I could change for the game (if indeed we ever made it there) but wanted to be a little more casual for dinner. I slipped on a pair of white tennis shorts without a jock or underwear and realized I'd never make it that way so I took the shorts off and pulled on a pair of white bikini underwear beneath. An electric blue tank top (cut low in front and way in the back) showed off my well-muscled, well-tanned chest and shoulders. If Tim preferred really hairy guys like himself, he would know right away that I wasn't one of them. Better to be disappointed early than after things got going, and I was determined that things get going right away. I looked at my watch and waited impatiently for him to arrive. Damn, it should only take a few minutes from the import dealer to our (oops, MY) house and I began to panic that he'd changed his mind and wouldn't be coming. Just then I heard a car pull up in front and I looked out the window to see him climbing out of his several-year old Toyota. Funny that a guy like him would work on other people's expensive cars and drive a beater himself. Oh shit, I was glad I'd decided to wear something under my tennis shorts because I was getting turned on already. He still had on his work overalls, but the ziper was down about half-way to reveal a chest even hairier than I'd imagined it would be. As he approached the door I could also see that his thick facial growth was even denser and darker and coarser than it had been the day before. Oh damn he was hot looking! I opened the door and extended my hand in greeting to him. "No, you don't want to touch me until I get this grime off" he said and he asked for immediate directions to the bathroom. "Let me shower and shave and then I'll shake your hand" he said. "Yeah okay, the shower's a good idea" I said, jokingly holding my nose "but the shave's optional. I mean it looks like you've decided to grow a beard since yesterday and ....." "No, not really" he interrupted me. "It's just the family curse" and I thought to myself that his was no curse at all. Certainly not for me! "You want barbecue sauce on your steak?" I asked him, saying that I'd better get started on dinner soon or we'd miss the opening face-off (then I corrected myself, somewhat embarrassed that I'd used the wrong sport's opening play). "Well yeah sure, I love barbecue sauce" he said, but he held up the white shirt he was planning to wear and said that he was such a slob that he'd probably drip the sauce all over his shirt. "Here's an idea" I said without even thinking what I was saying. "Why don't you wait 'til after we eat to put the shirt on. No use in standing on formality here. I'm not wearing much of a shirt myself for dinner" TIM- Damn right about that. Jesus he looked fantastic in that tank top. I couldn't have hoped for anything better! His broad muscular chest and shoulders were smooth as silk and looked hard as chiseled marble. And the deep green color of his eyes had to be tinted contact lenses, but I didn't care. He looked sexy as hell. That suggestion about me waiting to put my shirt on until after we ate fit in perfectly with my plan. I went to the bathroom while he put the steaks on and looked at myself in the mirror. The effect of the scruffy facial growth looked pretty hot, but I decided to shave it off. If Rogers really dug it there would be plenty of times later on for him to experience the feel against his smooth butt. It took me about twice as long to shave as it did to shower, and I pulled on those jeans with the tiny tear after toweling off my lower body. I didn't bother with the top half, preferring the look of my thick chest and belly coat kind of glistening with moisture from the shower. I carried the filmy white shirt over my arm and went to join Geoff out on the patio of his sprawling, expensive home. I approached him from behind and resisted the urge to come up and put my mouth on his muscular shoulder. Instead I called out that it smelled great. He turned and I heard him make an audible gasp. "Something wrong?" I asked, and he said he'd just inhaled a lung full of smoke from the grill. "Want a drink?" he asked, and he poured himself another scotch from a bottle that looked fuller than the one the previous afternoon. That meant he'd finished off the previous day's bottle and started on another, or perhaps had a fresh fifth for outside. It didn't matter, I said I'd love a drink. "Steaks are almost ready, have a seat" he said, pointing to the wrought iron patio table and comfy- looking chairs. The fact that he had dinner ready to eat so soon indicated that he intended to try to make it to the game. I had to do something quick or he'd find out that the tickets I had were bogus. I took the scotch glass from his hand and took a sip, running my tongue obviously over the rim, licking it sort of sensuously and hoping that he'd notice. Then, as we sat down to chow down on the salad and steak I accidentally (not really!) allowed a big mouthful of steak juice to dribble out of my mouth all over my hairy chest. "See, I told you I was a real slob at the table" I said, running my hand over my chest to smear the greasy juice all over my furry front. I looked straight at Geoff to see if he was noticing my preliminary activities and the look on his face told me he was indeed paying attention. GEOFF- Oh shit, when he appeared on the patio and said how good the steaks smelled I turned to see him and had to draw in a deep breath at what I saw. He'd looked pretty good in those overalls with the zipper down, but seeing him completely bare chested (or more appropriately "bear-chested") took me by surprise and I couldn't help but react. He asked what was wrong and I made up some bullshit about inhaling smoke from the grill. What was I going to say "Hey man I really dig the way you look with all that dark hair on your chest and I'd love to forget about dinner all together and just take you in the house and fuck the shit out of you?" No, I couldn't exactly be so direct, even though I was tempted to be. As we were eating though, he spilled some meat juice all over his front (he'd warned me earlier that his table manners weren't the best) and he started to wipe the juice into his thick chest mat. That did it for me, and I decided right then and there to make my move. TIM- I think we must've met in mid-air, halfway above the table. Something in Geoff's eyes told me it was time to do it and I stood up just as he leaned over and our mouths met right there above the salad bowl. "Let's go inside" he said, and within a few moments we were in his bedroom with our hands and tongues all over one another. I'd fantasized about him having this big thick cock but never in my wildest dreams had I imagined he was as big as he really is. I've been fucked by lots of guys before but no one will ever be able to "measure up" once my hairy ass-hole was stretched out by Geoff Rogers' huge cock. He gave me a pounding unlike any other I'd had or ever hoped to have and I decided right then and there that I'd done the right thing. The end always justifies the means right? GEOFF It had been ten years since I was with another man. My roommate during my first semester of college had decided at the last minute to go home for the weekend. Coincidentally, his older brother (this big football jock from a nearby college) decided to surprise his little brother with an un-announced visit. The hairy, muscular brrother and I hit it off great even though my roommate and I were only barely able to tolerate one another that year. When the hairy-bear brother died in a plane crash later that year I started dating Sheila. Maybe our relationship was doomed from the start. Anyhow, making it with Tim Morgan was ever so much better than it had been ten years before with my roommate's brother. I hadn't had anything up my ass (other than my own finger) for years and it felt great to be fucked by this hairy mechanic. Obviously, we never made it to the basketball game that night. I apologized for having wasted the ticket price but he insisted that it was well worth the loss. The next day was Saturday and we spent the entire day (and the next) in bed. Reluctantly, Tim left on Monday morning to return to work. His boss wasn't nearly so flexible as mine was so I started making arrangements right away for him to quit that job. Between Friday evening when I'd been somewhat disappointed that he'd shaved, and Monday morning when he left for work he managed to grow a full face of scruffy, rough whisker.....plenty to excite the hell out of my smooth ass-crack. I moaned and writhed and he told me that he'd never had anyone so excited to have his ass-hole eaten as I appeared to be. I asked him just how many ass-holes he'd eaten out previous to mine and he told me it was just a couple. I don't know whether to believe him or not, but it really doesn't much matter. I'm planning to make my ass-hole, my cock my mouth and every part of my body available to this hairy hunk for the rest of my life. My folks have agreed to keep the kids for a while, until I get my life back on track. Sheila's insurance policy paid double for accidental death so I'm pretty well set for life. I can pick and choose which jobs I want to do for the business and if I decide never to return to the office again that's fine. Tim quit his job (upon my insistence) and we've been doing lots of traveling, mostly on the big Harley I bought for him. I just love riding down the highway with my arms wrapped around his hairy chest, digging my hands into his jeans and rubbing my almost foot-long cock against his ass. TIM- Maybe some day I'll tell him the truth. When he admitted to me that he'd planned on divorcing the bitch anyway I realized that we could've been together even without my tampering with the brake lines on her Volvo. Still, had he divorced her she would get half of everything and we'd have none of the huge insurance settlement he got from her "accidental" death. Geoff tells me he's happier with me than he ever was with her, and I'm not about to jeopardize that by telling him that I purposely arranged for his wife to run off that cliff. I remember telling him the first day I came into this house that I wish I had talent like him. He insisted that I also had a talent, one for doing wonders on the insides of a car. He's right about that! I managed to sabotage that car without leaving any evidence of my work..... now THAT's a gift!