Gay Erotic Stories

It was getting late and I guessed Tod wasn’t coming back. Several patrons seemed to leave at the same time and I looked around, wondered what time the place would close down. He checked his watch, kept watching the door. I figured he was waiting for somebody, too.

I got his attention and tapped my bare wrist, gave him a confused look of concern. “What time they lock up, you know?”

“Around two, I think.” His voice was a low pitched and gravely bass. He looked back at his watch. “Maybe ten, fifteen minutes left; your buddy coming back?” Surprised me, I didn’t remember seeing him before Tod left.

“Hell, I donno. I thought he’d be back by now. He probably passed out in her bed.”

“She’s gonna charge him extra for sleeping over. Hope he’s got the money. Her husband gets rough when they can’t pay.”

“You know her?” I got up and slid closer by a couple of stools. (Only one seat between us, then.) “She’s married?”

“Yeah, he’s her pimp, you know? He’s there, at the house. He stays in a back bedroom unless he hears something he don’t like. But if a dude gets loud or if she calls him, bam! He’s right there. Protection, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. Guess that makes sense--better for her, anyway. Can’t see how a guy could let his wife fuck in the next room and not get pissed about it, though. Looks like he’d get jealous or something.”

He gave me a studied look. “Maybe”, he said. “Maybe he likes it. I’ve heard he’s got a peephole so he can watch. Maybe he just likes the money or maybe he’s kinky, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I see.” I felt pretty stupid. “I ain’t been out of Georgia long enough to think about stuff like that.” I did my best shy hick grin. Easy, didn’t have to try.

“Well”, he glanced away. “Hang out in places like this and you’ll learn more than you want to know.” His squinted up eyes found my face, again. “Georgia.” He kinda growled it, flat and a little disgusted. “You miss it?” He lifted a curl of his lip, cynical.

“Yeah, a little, I guess. Not all of it but home, my folks and my friends. You know.”

About then bartender came around and took our glasses, wiped down the counter. “Where you staying?” he asked as we walked out to the street. It was another warm Florida night.

“I don’t know … probably sleep on the beach. We found this place under a hot dog stand … Blanket and everything …”

“Well, fuck that. I got a room at the Reo. Come on with me.” He started off down the sidewalk. He never really asked me or gave me a chance to think about it. He just led the way and I followed, thinking we’d talk about it some more but then we was there and he put his hand flat on my chest and pushed me back into the shadows by the doorway.

“Wait up, man. Let me check out the lobby.”

I didn’t know what he meant but I waited, more curious than nervous.

“All right, come on...” He waved me from the door. Inside he looped his arm through mine and pulled me to the right behind this long screen. “Stairs over here, the desk guy is over by the elevator.”

“Shhsss!” he warned me as I slapped a flat sole against the wooden stairs. “I got a single room, man. They catch you up there and they charge us eight bucks more.”

“Oh! Got cha … I didn’t realize...” Suddenly we were like guys in a movie, sneaking into a hotel. I began giggling, couldn’t stop. He punched my shoulder and gave me a look, you know? Then he got to grinning, and pretty soon we were trying to hold it down quiet and both of us busting out to really have a good laugh. It was silly, yeah, but I’d had a few drinks, remember?

So we got into his room and he hung this little cardboard “do not disturb” sign on the door knob. “So the maids don’t come busting in on us,” he explained. I’d never been in an actual hotel room before. It wasn’t like the Holiday Inn; it was a postage stamp size room with a god awful high ceiling. Dark and the walls seemed to leap with shadows. Little lamps made big shadows. The bathroom was all little tiny white tiles except where some of them had come off. The bathtub was about the size of a Honda Civic.

There was only the one bed, guess that’s why they call it a single. It was wider than our bunks back on base but not as wide as a regular double bed. Real old looking dark wood, four poster bed and the mattress was real high off the floor. The whole thing was kinda like an old black and white movie, even the white fringed bedspread.

There was a big old window at the end of the room overlooking the street. I stood there looking down at the lights and the slow moving taxis. When I turned around he was already undressing. He stripped his tee shirt off and then looked at me with a frown. “You don’t mind, do you? It’s really hot?”

“Huh?” I didn’t get it.

“Okay if I sleep without my undershirt?” He shrugged.

“Sure. Why not …I don’t care.”

He took off his pants and folded them across a chair. Then he lit a smoke and came over to look out the window by me. I grinned, “Somebody will look in and see you in your drawers.” It was a big window, went almost to the floor.

“Nawh, too dark up here. Down there it’s all lit up, can’t see up here.” He stepped closer and looked down. “You think this thing opens? We could sure use some air in here.”

“Looks like it does.” I shoved up on the lower sash. It moved a little but not much.

“Both at once...” He pushed me over and we set our hands, watched each other’s face for the count. “One, two, three…” It went up, up high, it slid easy after the first few inches. A nice cool breeze swept in.

“Ah… Yeah, that feels great!” He pulled the waistband of his shorts way out and down, let the breeze flow over his skin. I was right beside him. I looked down there before I realized it, felt dumb, turned my face away. “I hope somebody looks in and sees me, now ...” He grinned. “Get a load of this!” He turned around and bent over, dropped his shorts down and shoved his bare ass to the wide window.

“Hey!” I pulled his arm, laughed. He stumbled against me, stood up with his shorts down around his ankles. We thought it was funny, okay? “You gonna get us arrested, man!”

“Nawh … nobody down there. You do it… dare you!”

“No way…”

“Cluck, cluck … chicken! You’re a chicken shit! Chicken,” he made a sing song, chant of it.

“Okay, okay, shut up, all right?” I dropped my pants and stepped out of them, he lifted my shirt and I raised my arms, let him strip it off me even while I thought it was a really strange thing for him to do… He stepped out of his shorts, left them on the floor. I just kept my eyes away from there, wondering if this was really right or what …? But I did it, dropped my shorts and bent over; thrust my ass to the night air whispering in from the open window. I got a huge flush of panic and shame but managed to squelch it, just barely. I jerked up and stepped quickly away from the window, right into his chest. He put out his arms, grabbed my shoulders. I couldn’t stop the blush of pink that surged up my neck and face. Something about that cool air hitting my wide open ass, damn, this ain’t right … it’s … it’s … sinful! That old church word flared back at me from Sunday school. Sinful. I’m being sinful! I got a case of sudden giggles, he watched me and grinned. His hand swept up to touch my warm cheek.

“You’re blushing.”

“I should be … this is sinful, you know it?”

“Yeah,” his grin spread. “Cool, ain’t it?”

“Kinda’, yeah.” I side-stepped his hands, put some space between our heated, naked bodies. My shorts lay on the floor in front of the window, right beside his. They touched, actually. I went into the bathroom, took a leak, something to give me a break from his strange presence. But he followed, leaned against the doorframe, cigarette dangled from his lip. His skin was pale in the bright white room.

“Look, there’s a shower.” He reached around me, flicked his cigarette into the toilet. I turned to see him step into the monster tub; the shower head was big as a dinner plate. “Come on in.” He held the shower curtain aside, waved me in impatiently. I stepped in beside him under the rainfall of warm water. He tugged the curtain to surround us.

This was back on steady ground. At the base we all showered together, every day. Nothing so weird about this except we were alone in a funky hotel room but it gave some sense of normalcy to being naked. There was still that aura of sinfulness around us but it was beginning to feel okay. I could handle this without shame or blushing. He turned the water up hotter. Steam gathered above us.

“Here, let me …” He had a palm full of shampoo. I bent my head towards him … I’d seen this before. Some guys on base did it, no big deal. I’d never done it but it was not weird. It felt pretty good, his hands were strong and my scalp relaxed and began to slide around my head. “Okay, under the water … over this way …” He guided me with a hand on my hip, I reached out, put my palms on the wall for balance. He stood behind me, brushed against me lightly. “Might as well scrub your back, too … you can’t reach it good as somebody else … do a better job …”

He used a rough cloth to spread soap across my shoulders and down my spine. I braced stiff as he rubbed firmly down, smoothly up … across my shoulders, nice there, the pressure on tense muscles … down my arched spine, almost into the intimacy of my ass but I’d already shown that to the wide world, right? It was public space, now, no longer a secret and private place. His fingers dug at the achy tightness in my back … when did he drop the cloth? Bare hands slid over my skin, smooth and calming … soothing. Hands came around me, slid across my chest, down my rib cage, onto my hips … back across my belly, very low … I opened my eyes, looked down at his arms encircling me, the nearness of his hands to my heavy swinging privacy. I closed my eyes. His body pressed into my back but it was okay because his touch was soft. I felt it slide over the round cheek of my right ass, gently fall, a weighty swing, a warm touch in the delicate crack … in my mind I saw it there, fitting naturally. I was glad he was soft, not all excited and demanding. That would be... sinful.

“Come on, don’t drown under there.” He pulled me back from the shower with both hands on my belly. As I turned, one of his hands brushed me, down there. If I hadn’t drunk so much, I thought, that would make me embarrass myself. I turned to him with a grin.

“You enjoyed that, huh?”

“Yeah. You should be one of those massage guys, you know?”

“Are you going to pass out? I can’t understand anything you’re saying.”

“Am I drunk?” I heard it as, “…uh dunk?”

“Yeah, you’re dunked! Don’t fall, careful.” He helped me out of the tub and draped a huge towel around me. I leaned against the wall while he turned off the water and shoved back the curtain. He turned to me, looked me up and down. “Gotta dry you off, too wet for the bed sheets.”

“A…yeah..” I agreed.

That summer we painted the church, it was a brilliant blue day, the clouds as glaringly white as this tile… the side of the church with fresh white paint almost too bright to look at, had to cover your eyes … blinding, like looking at God …

He was kneeling down, drying my legs. “Lift this foot …” Did he wash my feet?

And the sky seemed to be singing, a high, keening sound, an astral ringing too high to hear with human ears but you could feel it, almost touch it as it zinged through the vibrant air, and birds sounded echoey, hollow sounds … I remember standing there in a trance, soaking it up, the sheer joy of it, the assurance of a finite good, a force that measured out justice … decided balance …

“Spread you legs, okay?” His dry touch slid up between my legs, glided into the narrow spaces, made my pendulum swing, sent chime bells ringing in my head. Then he was moving behind me, touching my ass, finding every single inch of my naked skin and the nerves danced, delighted, joyous, ecstatic. He dried my hair and it almost cleared my head. The bells quieted, the air stopped swirling around my ears. I looked him right in the eyes and he smiled. Not the cynical tight grin he had been using on me but a real smile, gentle and well pleased. “Come on, Georgia Boy … I’m taking you to my bed.”

“I’m ready.” It came out clear, steady. But my legs were numb, just the same.

He almost carried me to bed and turned down the covers, laid me upon softness and cool, clean white sheets. He kissed my brow like a father.

I never knew his name. He was gone when I woke up. His clothes were gone, not a trace left, no note--nothing but my stuporous memories. I could smell his scent on my body, though, and knew he was really there. I touched the places he touched, all of me. He even touched the inside of me. He left some of himself there, in me. He was part of me, now. Somewhere, wherever he went, I was a part of him, too … if only a memory.

But what else do we have but the constructs of our mind? Our thoughts, our memories, our feelings … what else matters? This vessel of a clay body? Meaningless, dumb and mechanical … all that matters is inside our head … perhaps our hearts if that is only a special place in our head. He is there and always will be; there without the sad and cynical grim face … he wears an ecstatic smile of joy. I know; I saw it. I put it there. I reached up and touched that smile, and knew the boundless, unlimited, realm of love… shining love, laughing love, joyous love, contented love … and no sin within its blinding light.

................................ jackertoo@aol.com