Gay Erotic Stories

Clean Up Day By motn007 There were five of us that were scheduled to meet backstage on Saturday. We were going to clean out the storage room behind the college's theatre stage, paint it, and organize it. It was no surprise to me when three didn't show. Michael, however, showed up on time. Looking puffy from just waking up, his curly dark hair stood up in places and his shirt was wrinkled. Half of his collar was tucked under. In other words, he looked absolutely delicious. "Where's everyone at?" he asked, the sleep still seeping through his voice. The look I gave him was enough to answer the question. I poured us both coffee and we sat wordlessly on the stage drinking the stuff. I had put tons of sugar and cream in the thermos. I grinned as he sipped it and grimaced. Michael liked it black. He drank it anyway, without complaint. Setting down our cups, we moved to the storage room and began dragging out boxes. Some of the stuff smelled so strongly of mildew it went directly to the "pitch" pile. Michael was very familiar with all of this stuff, so I trusted him not to let me throw anything away that was important. As he bent to pull out an old mattress, his grip failed and he fell back nearly knocking me down. "Sorry!" he said, attempting to stop me from falling. I grabbed him and steadied myself and we both laughed at our clumsiness. Slowly his face got serious. He leaned towards me and kissed me softly. I am always unprepared for Michael's advances. He's younger than I am in so many ways. I truly envy his boldness. I am most grateful for it as well. I let him kiss me. His hands slowly lifted and rested on my chest. I knew he could feel my heart beating like a drum, but I didn't care. As Michael leaned into me, he pressed his thigh against my groin and I gasped, pulling him tighter. "Don't you think we should lock the door?" I stammered as he sucked playfully on my neck. "Think about it, Richard," he hissed, "it's 'clean up day'. No one will be here." I agreed. The fear of getting caught in the storeroom was almost a turn-on in its own right. Reaching down I felt Michael's hardness. When I pressed my hand against him there, he made a sound like a whimper. I barely heard him. "Yes?" I asked, looking at him…at those deep blue eyes. "Please. Do that again." I touched him again, pressing my palm against his hardness. Why something so simple reduced this man to a quivering mass escaped me. And pleased me to no end. Undoing his belt, I looked intently at his face. His lip trembled as I finished with his belt and began to unbutton and unzip his jeans. By the time I had my hand around his cock he was damn near clawing at me, pulling off my shirt. The intensity between us was overwhelming as we quickly undressed each other, fumbling with buttons, zippers, and elastic. When Michael dropped down before me I stopped him. "No, not this time. This time, you let me." I guided him to lie down and I hovered over him. I kissed his stomach and admired his cock, worshipping it. Slowly, I ran my tongue up the length of it. "Richard," Michael whispered. Hearing Michael whisper my name in this manner nearly drove me to my own climax. I cannot begin to tell you how flattered I was that my simple touch could incite such passion. As I kissed him and tasted him, I caressed his balls. I ran my hand up the back of his thigh and he arched his back. I took him into my mouth wholly and he nearly wept. By now, I was nearing my own finish. I hadn't touched myself nor had Michael had the chance to reciprocate and yet I was ready to explode at the simplest intimate act. When I pulled back from Michael to regain some composure, he scrambled to his knees and whispered harshly into my ear, "I'm taking you now." Pushing me facedown, he was on me and within seconds he was working me over, preparing me for entry. As he urged me up on hands and knees I squeezed my eyes shut trying my best to stave off my climax. Feeling his hands gripping me was almost too much. As he lifted my hips and entered me from behind, I clutched at the mattress we had fallen on. He pushed steadily inside me, sliding his entire length into the perfect position. Applying gentle pressure, he remained still until my trembling legs began to calm. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it sending my unspoken signal. Slowing, he began to move. With each thrust, he whispered, "Mine." All I could do was think: "Yes, yours." I sure as hell was unable to say it. I raised my hips higher and felt his thrusts deepen. He reached around and stroked me greedily as I pushed back against him. I felt the burning tension deep in my sack as he hammered me. Lifting, I nearly shouted as I came. He thrust four or five more times before he met his climax as well, harshly scraping out my name through a breathless voice; pure music. For almost 20 minutes, we lay entwined on that old, disgusting mattress in the theater storeroom. Even after I began to breathe normally, my heart still raced. Michael was not in any better shape. When I finally sat up, he looked up at me sheepishly and asked, "Do we have to?" Slapping him on the ass, I said, "Yes." We shakily got up and got dressed. We finished cleaning out the storeroom and painted it that day, occasionally exchanging sly looks. For once I was glad the rest of the cleaning crew had backed out. Motn007@yahoo.com