Gay Erotic Stories

I couldn’t stand Clark. You might have guessed, right? He was everything I hated most about the male animal. He could be cruel, insensitive, coarse … and well, mostly just like our father. Dad loved him. Dad acted like Clark set the sun every morning. Guess Clark was the kind of son Dad always wished I’d been. Dad played football when he was in school, as he often told me. He kept on about playing sports built “character”. Like I didn’t have enough character, huh?

I hated school sports and the guys that played them. It was a socially acceptable form of violence as far as I was concerned. Sports were just an outlet for aggression, competition and masculine ego bullshit. I wasn’t allowed to express that opinion at home, you understand. Any talk like that would invite banishment, abandonment and most likely, physical damage! Dad liked sports, a lot!

They stayed with us the first few months after the wedding, saving up for a down payment on a house. Sunday afternoons became a football HELL as Dad and Clark and all their buddies gathered in the living room to watch four or five hours of televised beer commercials studded with play by play shots of maiming tackles and screaming assaults from fat, baldheaded coaches. Typical American manhood, mom would say, if I dared complain about the noise level or the stench of tobacco smoke or the way the house shook on its foundations when the home team made a score. “That’s just men for you,” was my sister’s rejoinder.

Everybody made it pretty clear I wasn’t on that list. I was nothing like the approved male standard. I liked books, defended the environmentalist agenda, took the feminist view point as a reasonable argument, even supported democratic politicians … so ergo, not male; something quite “other”. I was tolerated though, mostly, but I was also the butt of many family jokes. Even Jenny laughed if Clark made the joke. I learned to stay away from the house until late, to slide through the family gatherings with as little comment as possible, and to become an invisible presence in my home much like a ghost. That’s the way I survived my high school years. I got to know the public library better than the head librarian and there were city employees that thought I lived in the park! If it was raining or cold I hit the cheapest movie theaters in town and sometimes the museum. Okay, guess where I learned about faggots? At church!

I’d always liked the First Methodist Church, it was a beautiful place and suffuse with peaceful serenity and soft music and gentle teachings of a forgiving and merciful God. It was a place of refuge from the harsh world of the suburban malcontent. I don’t think I ever really bought the faith and belief system, it was just too far fetched and I was a born cynic about love and all that stuff about heaven and angels and harps and halos, you know? But it was a nice and non threatening environment where I could sit a while and breath easy. It was a place where nobody told me I wasn’t a man because I’d never shot a deer or because I’d never run across a field of grass and broke somebody’s ribs over the location of a leather covered ball. It was a place of fantasy but a nice place.

Well, it was nice until Benny Conley (the choir director) noticed me and started trying to make friends. He was just a little too effusive, a little bit too hands-on friendly, you know? He’d catch me in the aisle after services and pump my hand while he patted my shoulder and smiled moistly into my eyes. The occasional slide of his hand down my back and the almost feather light pat at my ass came later. A couple of times he even managed to brush my basket with his hand as he turned in the crowd. Accidental? I don’t think so! He kept after me to join his choir. I never did. Wednesday night meetings? Gee, just couldn’t make it, Benny, sorry.

I thought about it, okay? I really did. Hell, I was just as full of teenager hormones as the jock types. I thought about letting Benny pick me up for choir practice and driving me home after. I thought about the inevitable side stops in dark streets and about letting Benny suck my dick. It got me off a few times, just thinking about it. But Benny was too pathetic, you know? His hands shook and got sweaty when he squeezed my palm. His eyes glittered with a desperation that scared me. I wondered if I’d end up like that. It was not a comforting thought. There was one time, at the library, when I stuck my dick through the glory hole for a beckoning finger … I thought it was Benny. Something about the rabid way the guy slurped at my dick, the hungry anxiety … I couldn’t even get my nut. I pulled out and ran for it. Never knew if it was him for sure.

The glory holes were my only outlet for sex with another person. The blind of hiding behind the wooden partition felt safe, controlled. No way was I ready to go face to face with another guy. Maybe dad was right, maybe I just didn’t have enough guts to be a real man. He never said it but I sure got the message.

There was a respite around the house for a while when Jenny and Clark moved to the city. It was a long drive and they didn’t come home much. I didn’t miss them. Life got better when I made friends with a couple of guys, Patrick and Manard. They weren’t so bad. … Losers, like me, yeah, but they accepted me and laughed at my jokes. We hung out. I got a job at the record store where they worked and we went out a few times. We smoked a few joints together. I began to feel like maybe life was bearable after all.

The guys were always talking about this club in the city, The Warehouse. I couldn’t see driving an hour just to go to some loud and crowded place where lots of people would bump into you but they kept on about it, begging me to go along sometime. When Manard told a story about seeing a couple of guys dance together I got interested. Seems the place was a mixture of a gay bar and disco and straight pick up club. It began to sound more interesting. Okay, I finally agreed. We saved up to get a room so we wouldn’t have to drive back home drunk and the weekend finally came and I worried over what to wear and wondered if I’d look like the nerd I was afraid of being and then it happened. We went. We had a few drinks. It was getting fun.

I felt like I was at a carnival or something. I was a tourist and just looking around; checking out the action was enough. I didn’t actually have to participate. It was dark enough you could sort of hide out at a side wall or at a back table. You didn’t feel like everybody was looking at you like I’d feared. I even danced a couple of times. There were a lot of people dancing without partners, you just went on the dance floor and started dancing and sometimes you were dancing with this one girl and then you turned around and you were dancing with another girl, you know? There was even one time when I turned to find a really cool guy dancing right beside me and he looked into my eyes and smiled and it felt like I was dancing with him. Maybe I was, for a few minutes, anyway. It was pretty heady. I got a charge from the energy, the feel of the music booming through my bones, the flashing lights and the sweat and then all of a sudden it went rotten and sour. Clark was on the dance floor. He was grinding his groin up against this girl that sure wasn’t my sister.

He didn’t see me. Hell, he had his eyes closed most of the time! He was using brail to “read” this girl. His palms went all over her body, sliding down to cup her ass and turning her to hump against her while he massaged her tits. Nothing unusual about that, everybody else on the dance floor was doing the same thing... But this was my brother-in-law, okay? This was my sister’s husband, for god’s sake. I moved away, tried not to watch. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I did NOT want a confrontation, not at all. I wanted to slink away and pretend it never happened. I must have got turned around in the crowd. When I thought I was well away, I bumped right into him.

Clark shoved back with his normal, unthinking, macho reaction. Then he froze, stared at my slack jawed surprise. He said something, his lips moved but I couldn’t hear his voice in the roar of percussions. He reached down to pull the girl’s hand out of his opened fly. My eyes followed. Bad move, Clark. Maybe I wouldn’t have seen it if you hadn’t made it so obvious. I side stepped and plunged into the dancers. I found a spot in deep shadow and watched him looking around panic stricken. I got the hell out of there, okay?

When I got home next day mom said Jenny had phoned early, said they were coming for a visit. Clark didn’t want to leave it hanging, huh? He wanted to face up and get it over with fast. I donno what he was expecting. Did he think I’d denounce him in front of the whole family or what? Hell, I wasn’t even shocked or anything. He didn’t know me if he thought I’d tell anybody. Okay, he really didn’t know me. No doubt.

So they showed up around lunch time and Jenny made her big announcement as we sat around the potato salad. She’s pregnant. I just glanced at Clark, that’s all, just a quick glance to gauge his emotional mood. He was sweating. He was watching me like a rabbit watches oncoming headlights, and big beads of sweat stood out like glass beads on his forehead and upper lip. I grinned. Guess that was the worst thing I could do, huh? But the effect of a huge bolt of power surged through me and I grinned. I got a little dizzy. It was wonderful, let me tell you.

So the fucker was afraid of me? Fine, let’s keep it that way, shall we? I liked it. He must have already checked Dad and Mom’s reaction to him, judged it normal and figured I’d not said anything about our encounter. Now he was living in dread, right? Jenny’s pregnant and he’s out fucking bar sluts? Just your normal, average male… they all end up shafting themselves with their own cock, right? It sounded just like too many soap opera plots to be funny. I let the surge of power-tripping pass and actually felt sorry for the schmuck. He looked exactly like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The glaze of guilt on his face even made him somewhat attractive. I smiled at him and got a little relieved grin in response. Fuck him. I didn’t need this. I only wished he’d never seem me, sure wished I’d never seen him!

After lunch it was kinda peaceful. Football season was over and dad snored in his lounge chair while an old black and white movie flickered. Mom and Jenny staked claim to the kitchen to talk baby talk. I hid out in my room because it was too cold to go to the park. I lay across my bed with Gide for company. Clark tapped gently then let himself in.

“Hi guy!” He tried a nervous grin, he depended heavily on charm.

“Hi, Clark. You lost?” I don’t think he’d ever been in my room before. I didn’t want a friendly, brotherly talk. It was the last thing I wanted!

“Nawh man, I came looking for you.” Okay, he was kinda simple and literal. I could pack up the sarcasm.

“Well, you found me.” I went back to my book.

“What’cha reading?” He came over and perched on the side of the mattress. I moved away from contact with his thigh. He recoiled a little, twitched with the anxious jitters. So go away, okay? I thought.

“It’s an old novel; just passing the time.” I flipped a page and kept my eyes on the print.

“Uh, you wanna go for a drive? I’ll buy you a beer down at the Inn. Let’s get out of the house a while, okay?” He slapped playfully at my leg.

I couldn’t do this. I hated his phony attempt at commradery. “Thanks, Clark. Just not in the mood, you know? Go ahead. I doubt Jenny will miss you for a while. She and Mom will have lots to talk about; Dad will sleep for an hour. Go ahead. Have fun.” I gave it a dismissing tone, but he either missed it or didn’t want to give up.

“Nawh, if you don’t wanna go... I don’t want to go by myself, you know?” He glanced around. “You like fantasy stuff, huh? Nice poster!” He looked at the old pin-up of an album cover.

“Not really. That’s sort of a collector’s item. Somebody brought it into the shop, I bought it; more of an investment than anything else … Hey? I wanna read my book, do you mind?”

He stood up suddenly, blanched pale. “Sorry man…didn’t mean to bother you.” He scratched at his armpit under his red knit shirt, looked down kind of bemused. “You never liked me, did you? I mean, I know it but I never really thought about it. I wish we could be friends, you know? I mean, brothers-in-law, that’s almost like brothers … we should be buddies, right?”

“Not all brothers are buddies, Clark. Ever heard of Cain and Able?” I laughed, not sharing it with him. “No problem, man. We just don’t have much in common, do we? You never liked me either, so what’s the difference? We can just ignore each other. No problem.”

He moved towards the door, and then stopped at the computer. He studied it like it was interesting, shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can’t really ignore each other when we keep running into each other can we?” He kept his eyes on the computer, didn’t look at me. “I mean, you’ve been a kid and I didn’t treat you with much respect, I know... Now you’re grown up and things change … Just wanted to make it up to you, that’s all. Start over, you know?” His new-found meekness seemed genuine enough, but I knew it was just guilt driving him to pull me close. You keep your friends close, your enemies closer, right? No, I couldn’t trust this.

“Sure, Clark. Whatever.” I loaded it with as much irony as I could growl, turned over and stared down at my book. If only he would go away! But he came back to the bed, sat back down. The bed tilted under his weight.

“Look, buddy, I could be a good friend if you’d let me. Might surprise you, huh?” He rubbed my back. His big hand felt warm and strong. My back muscles automatically squirmed under his touch like a cat being stroked. I moved further away. It was only a single bed; I couldn’t get much farther from him. Just like a man, huh? He thought he could charm everybody if he tried. Figured everybody was craving his touch.

“Don’t Clark! Don’t touch me!” I shrugged beneath him.

He went on rubbing at my shoulders, the back of my neck. “Why, Buddy? Feels good, don’t it?” He used both hands. “When I played ball? After a game? We had a guy…gave great massage; nothing like it to relax a man, make him feel good.”

I closed my eyes, tried to resist the warm pleasure coursing down my spine. Tried to summon the energy to slide off the other side of the bed, get away from him. “Nothing wrong with feeling good, is there?” His hands traveled down my back, rubbed at my kidneys … his thigh against my hip grew warmer. He slapped playfully at my ass. It felt hot, it surprised me. “Okay, you don’t like it? Sorry.” He stood up and left a cool place where he’d been.

“Can I use your john?” I didn’t answer but he walked into my bathroom and I heard his urine splash into the bowl with a loud and noisy intensity. I glanced over my shoulder. He’d left the door wide open and stood sideways. His hips thrust forward and his cock was long and pale. He looked up and caught me watching. He grinned. He shook it for an unnecessisarily long time. When he turned back towards me, his cock still hung out in plain sight. He was slow to put it away and zip up. I though about his cock sliding through that glory hole at the library. Was it ever him? Had I ever touched that tender skin?

He came out and sat down again, this time his back towards me. He lifted his shirt to his shoulders, reached back to touch the swell of a muscle along side his spine. “I pulled this place one time, a strained muscle, you know? It never has been right since then, still aches and feels tight. How about a hand, huh? I can’t reach it … just rub it right there, okay?”

I wasn’t going to touch him, no way. This was just not happening, but somehow my hand went up to massage, to feel, to slide warmly down the bare skin. Both hands, as I sat up, explored under his shirt, squeezed his shoulders and dug my fingers into his thick neck. He arched his head back, moaned.

“Mmmm, that feels so good, buddy! You’ve got strong hands, man! Dig in there deep, feels great!”

I jerked my hands back. The sudden heat of an erection flashed through my crotch. Stop it! “Hey, Clark. That’s enough, man. This is crazy, right? We can’t … uh …I mean … you …”

He turned, lifted his shirt in front and showed me his incredible chest. His face tensed in a slight smile, a dark fear moistened his eyes. “Sure we can …” He stared down at my crotch, reading the information stated obviously in the strained fabric. He glowed with confidence, assurance. “Told you I could be a good friend, Buddy. I could be a real good friend.” He stood, turned, slowly reached for his zipper; slid the fly down with a sensuous flick.

“Not here, not now. No way Clark!” I moved around him and stood up, straightened my shirt. “You still want to get out of the house? I’ve got some books overdue, how about a lift to the library?”

“Sure.” He looked uncertain, off center. “If that’s what you want?”

“Oh yeah; that’s exactly what I want, my friend.” I winked at him. He grinned, relieved. I stepped closer and tugged up on his zipper. “Better keep that thing locked up, it might get away!”

“Yeah,” he looked down into my eyes, produced a lopsided smile. “It always had a mind of its own.”

“A mind is a terrible thing to waste, right?” I laughed.

He colored up, a shy flush. Rather amazing when he’d just been so bold and aggressive. “I don’t think it would be wasted on you.” He looked at my lips, back at my eyes. I stepped back, and then shuddered. The guy I hated most in the world suddenly becoming the most attractive man I’d ever known? What was wrong with me? I wanted to kiss him, dammit. Wanted to let him kiss me! Would he go that far? Hell, I knew he was just playing at this to keep me quiet about the girl at the club. Still, it was fun to think about what he might do to keep me happy … gee, should I find out or just keep it as a secret hidden power? Would this be a one time thing or was he willing to keep it up for years? Just how much of it was he faking? Too much to think about, I needed some space, some air. “Get your coat, it’s cold out there.” I turned to the closet for my jacket.

“Okay, Buddy. Be ready in a sec, okay?” He left me alone a minute and I glanced into the mirror, touched my hair but avoided my eyes. No. I knew it. I couldn’t do this, I really couldn’t.

When he pulled in at the curb I turned to him, “Just drop me off. You go on, find some of your old friends. Have fun. I’ll get a ride home and see you later tonight, at supper, okay? You guys are spending the night, right?” I tried to keep it light and chipper. He reached over to grab my leg, probed my eyes.

“Buddy? I thought …”

“We’ll be friends, Clark. I think we can handle that, okay? I think we know each other a lot better, understand we are more like each other than we knew … well, in some ways. Everybody has a right to privacy, right? We all have our secrets. It’s okay, don’t sweat it.” I pulled his hand loose from my leg with a smile. “Relieved?” I laughed. “You’d actually have gone through with it, wouldn’t you!”

He frowned, studied my eyes, my mouth. “Buddy, if you want …?”

“All I want is your respect; don’t think I could get that down on my knees.”

“I don’t understand, I thought you wanted …”

“Everybody wants things they can’t have, Clark. The real test of a man is knowing when to say “No” to something he wants real bad … can you understand that? It’s like growing up, being responsible, you know?”

He shook his head, winced, “What the fuck does that mean? You don’t want to suck my dick, right? Just say it, don’t dress it up in bullshit!” His voice went hard and harsh.

No use. I’m wasting my time and his. “Okay, whatever, Clark.” I climbed out of the car, glanced back one time. “But thanks for the lift… see ya!”

“Hey, Buddy … Wait …listen.” I leaned back down, he spoke very quietly. “I really wanted to do it with you, you know?”

“Yeah, I know Clark. I know. Life’s a bitch, huh?” I slammed the door, about all the brotherly closeness I could handle for one day. Damn, it was cold! I clutched my books tight and ran for the library door.

... jackertoo@aol.com