Gay Erotic Stories

It’s been more than five years now since Dave and I were ‘married’. It is still one of my happiest, brightest memories, that day by the harbour, and the following night in the hotel. We followed it with a marvelous week of lovemaking and sunbathing at a tropical resort, and then came home to settle into our new life together.

Despite my promises that day, we have had a few fights over the years, but we have always made sure we made up before we went to sleep that night. And the years have been good to us. Dave is still as stunningly gorgeous as ever, and I love him even more now than I did back then. Sometimes, late at night as I lie in our bed with his arm across my chest and his deep contented breathing in my ear, I want to cry with joy at how lucky I am, and how amazing it is that such a perfect man as he could fall in love with me.

Our home too, has lived up to all of our expectations and fulfilled all of our dreams. We’ve made it a warm and welcoming place, often filled with the laughter and joy of our friends and our families. We’ve held dinner parties and barbecues, afternoon soirees and innumerable gatherings. We’ve fulfilled our promise to our families, and become favourite uncles to a host of nieces and nephews. And in all that time, I have never lost the wonder and the thrill of making love with him. Every time is better than the last, and every second away from him is an eternity.

It was the first week of September, and spring was in the air. I was always amazed at how the change from winter took place overnight, blossoms appearing everywhere, and a definite warmth in the morning air. That Saturday morning I had just finished some laundry and Dave was in the guest bedroom, scrubbing it down in preparation for a new coat of paint. Domestic bliss! I thought to myself, when I heard the phone ring. Dave answered it, and a conversation ensued which I couldn’t hear. Ten minutes later, he wandered out to find me.

“Sally says hi!”

“Okay,” I replied. “How is my favourite sister-in-law?”

“She’s well. She rang to ask if we would baby-sit next weekend.”

“I guess so,” I answered, thinking hard. “I hope the paint is dry and the smell gone by that time from the bedroom. What are they up to?”

Dave looked thoughtful. “Nothing. Sally and Michael don’t have any plans at all…”

“Then why are we babysitting?” I asked, confused.

“Apparently, it’s not her idea. Jarod has been at her, asking if he can come and stay with us for a weekend. Just him, not the other kids.”

“Jarod? Has he come out yet?” I asked with a smile. It had been a continuing joke between Sally and us since she confided at our wedding that she suspected her then 11-year-old son might be gay. He was now a good-looking young man of 16.

Instead of the usual laugh from Dave, all I got was a long, thoughtful look. “No,” he said finally, “but Sally thinks he might want to – to us!”

“Oh!” I said quietly, the implications sinking in. “Well, I suppose he’s at the age when he knows. What did you tell her?”

“That he could come and stay, and that we wouldn’t push him at all, but that we’d let him tell us whatever he wanted.”

The following weekend arrived remarkably quickly. Strangely enough, both Dave and I were somehow nervous about what it would bring. We had always encouraged our nieces and nephews to be honest and open, to ask any questions of us, and tried to answer them honestly, but this was different, and we just weren’t sure how to handle it. Hell, we didn’t even know for sure what ‘it’ was!

Jarod arrived early Saturday morning, getting himself to our place by train, exerting his independence from his parents. At sixteen he was all but a man, and yet he still had a wonderful boyish quality about him. I met him at the door, and was struck by how attractive he had become physically. His legs were strong and muscled, and I knew he was part of the cycling team at school. His arms were powerful and his shoulders wide. I mused that good looks must run in Dave’s family.

“Hi, Uncle Mike!” he exclaimed as I opened the door.

“Hi yourself, handsome,” I replied as usual. “I swear you get better looking every time I see you. I’ll bet you’re breaking hearts all over that school of yours!”

He blushed and gulped, both normal reactions from him, and something I’d managed to elicit for a long time now. Maybe it was my imagination, but this time he seemed to take my comments a little more to heart than before.

Dave heard his voice and bellowed from the living room, “Is that my favourite nephew you’re keeping to yourself out there, Trenton?”

Jarod laughed and threw his bag into his room, heading to the back of the house. “Hey there, Uncle Dave!”

Dave looked him up and down, and looked over Jarod’s shoulder to me, winking slightly in one of our shared signals. He appeared to become serious, trying to keep a stern expression on his face. “Now listen here, Jarod! You’re a man now, or close enough for the difference not to matter. We won’t have any more of this ‘uncle’ business, it makes both Mike and I feel positively ancient. From now on, you call us ‘Mike’ and ‘Dave’, okay?”

Jarod’s grin lit up his face. “You bet, Unc …, er, you bet Dave!” he said enthusiastically.

“Great,” Dave replied. “Now, the other fun part about being grown up is that you get to help with the work! Mike is busy inside, but you and I are going to attack this garden, before it gets overgrown with the new season, okay?”

Jarod pretended a groan, but I could see he was actually delighted to be included as one of the adults. He and Dave set to work in the yard, and Dave kept him busy for the rest of the morning with weeding and cutting, and generally cleaning up. By early afternoon, the garden was looking much better, and Dave called a halt to their efforts.

“Lunch!” I declared, delivering a tray of cold cuts and rolls, salad and cheese onto the small table on our deck, overlooking the garden.

“When does the rest of the crowd arrive?” Dave asked with a grin.

“Yeah, there’s an awful lot of food here,” Jarod agreed.

I tried to look offended. “Got to keep my men well fed,” I answered them. “Need to keep their energy levels up!” I added in a loud stage whisper, overemphasizing a leery wink at Dave. He tried to stifle a laugh as Jarod turned red and attempted to look away. I ignored both of them as I set three glasses on the table and poured each of us a full measure of red wine – a very nice Merlot, perfect for a spring afternoon, that we had been cellaring for a while.

Jarod looked at the glass with surprise. “Is that for me?”

“Uh huh,” I nodded. As with all of the children, Dave and I had, with their parents blessing, insisted that from a young age they be allowed to taste wine, and taught to appreciate the good from the bad. In addition, we felt it lessened the possibility of them over-indulging once they were legally able to buy alcohol themselves, if the mystery were removed while they were still adolescent. But such tasting was usually allowed by sampling very small sips, and Jarod was the first to be given his own full serving.

“You do the work of a man, you get treated like a man,” I said, smiling at him. And then my face became serious. “Of course, you also have to act like a man, or else you’ll be treated like a kid again.”

Dave nodded to me over Jarod’s head, approving of my strategy. From then on, we made no more reference to Jarod’s age. We ate our lunch leisurely, and chatted about whatever came to mind. Dave and I discussed things that needed doing around the house, asking Jarod for his opinion. We talked about work, about our friends, about planned parties and so on. Family members were discussed, and several times we tried to draw Jarod out by asking him about school, about his academic work, about the cycling team, about his friends. Each time he answered politely, but then seemed to quieten until we moved on to some other topic. He did however seem to be very happy to be included in our conversation and to be treated as an adult.

The afternoon wore on as we sat and talked, relaxing together. Our drinks had been replenished several times, and I was keeping my eye on our nephew given the amount of alcohol he was not accustomed to, but he seemed to be taking it all in his stride. At least he was starting to open up a bit more, his natural shyness decreasing as the time went by.

“So, what do you want to do tonight?” Dave asked the air, although his question was aimed at Jarod.

“Um, I don’t know,” the young man replied.

“Well, it’s your weekend. Did you want to catch a movie, dinner, party on?” asked Dave.

“Sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll?” I added helpfully. Dave threw a cushion at me, as Jarod laughed self-consciously.

“No, thanks, but if it’s okay, well, I think I’d rather just hang around here with you,” Jarod said quietly.

“What?” I asked, surprise in my voice. “Spend a Saturday night with a couple of boring old uncles? Take away food and a movie on the telly? What kind of teenager are you anyway?”

Dave nudged Jarod with his elbow, looked toward me and nodded. Together, they swung around with cushions in hand, and I copped a double blow to either side of my head. When I tried to fight back, Dave grabbed hold of my hands and refused to let go as I struggled with him, as all three of us laughed uproariously. Eventually, I managed to free myself by pulling him against me and planting a long kiss on his lips. When we separated again, Jarod was looking at us intently, an unreadable expression on his face. It surprised both of us, since we had never hidden our affection for each other around the children.

“Honestly,” he said as Dave and I re-seated ourselves, “a night at home with you would be great.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “So you can either have your choice of fast food and we pick the movie, or vice versa. What do you think?”

“My pick, and I choose dinner – pizza!” Jarod exclaimed.

“Just as well,” I lectured. “If you’d said burgers I’d have been forced to kill you!” In truth, Dave and I would probably have gone for a nice Italian meal at a café, then a few drinks at one of the bars before heading home, but there was no way I was taking Jarod to a bar yet, even if he could have probably gotten away with it with his size and build. We had learned to live with fast food for the sake of the nephews and nieces.

The evening was coming on, and even though it was September, there was still a chill in the night air. “Okay, guys,” I announced. “Jarod, why don’t you take a shower and clean up. I’ll tidy out here, and Dave, you can set up the lounge room, and pick a movie.”

As the young man disappeared into the bathroom, I looked to Dave. “What do you think?”

“He definitely has something on his mind, but I don’t think he knows how to bring it up.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Dave suddenly grinned. “I might be overplaying things, but I have an idea …” He explained what he planned, and I smiled. If being gay was what was on Jarod’s mind, this would be one way to get him to open up.

An hour and a half later, we were ready for the movie. We’d taken turns at showering and cleaning, and Jarod had been left to order the pizza, which had been delivered and was awaiting consumption. We arranged ourselves in front of the television, Dave and I next to each other and Jarod on the neighbouring chair, the pizza on a coffee table in front of us and I bottle of wine breathing beside it.

“Ready?” Dave asked, and Jarod and I nodded as we settled in and Dave started the video. It was an old movie from our collection, called “Our Sons” with Julie Andrews, Ann-Margret, and Hugh Grant, and told the story of a gay couple where one of them was dying of AIDS and his partner’s mother (Julie Andrews) was determined to re-unite the dying man with his mother (Ann-Margret) who had thrown him out when she discovered he was gay. Not terribly subtle in the present circumstances, but a movie we both enjoyed tremendously, and one which we always found to be profoundly moving.

As the movie progressed, the three of us finished off the pizza and had some more wine. Dave and I slid down onto the floor, arms around each other in a makeshift bed of pillows and blankets, while Jarod stretched out lengthwise on the sofa. When the final credits rolled, I sniffled back a tear, and kissed Dave softly. “I love you,” I whispered to him.

“I love you, too,” he responded quietly. “That movie always makes me cry,” he added.

Jarod was strangely quiet. I looked to where he was lying, wondering if he’d fallen asleep, but he was sobbing silently to himself.

“Hey, guy,” I said, reaching for him. “It’s okay.”

Dave looked up and came over to him as well. “It’s only a movie, Jarod; don’t be too upset.”

“How could anyone be so hateful?” he sniffled. “Surely no one could be that awful to their own son just because he’s gay?”

“Well,” Dave said slowly, choosing his words. “Unfortunately, yes some people are like that. Don’t forget, that movie was made a long while ago now, and attitudes have changed. Even from when Mike and I were growing up, things have gotten a lot better.”

“Surely you didn’t get that kind of treatment?” Jarod looked aghast.

“No,” I said reassuringly, “We were both lucky to have loving, understanding families, but we also both know people who were treated very badly.” I took a breath, and went on. “It was still very hard for your uncle and I to admit how we felt. We went to school together you know, but didn’t actually tell each other how we felt until many years later.”

Jarod gasped at my last comment, and looked startled, his eyes wide. I wondered what had made him jump like that. Dave spoke again.

“You know, Jarod, that things are easier now. Your own mother actually told us the day Mike and I got married that she hoped our getting married would be an example for her children, and that they would know by seeing us that it was okay for two men to love each other.” He didn’t repeat the rest of that conversation, but Jarod looked up in surprise just the same.

“My mother said that?”

“Yep. She’s a very understanding lady, your mum,” I added, watching him closely.

Jarod’s face betrayed the emotions churning within him. The plot line of the movie, our presence, and the wine all seemed to contribute to his ability to get out the next few words. With anguish in his voice, he tried to speak, stopped, drew a breath, and tried again.

“Mike, Dave, “ he choked out, “I’m gay.” The words were spoken so softly it was almost impossible to hear them, but we did. Dave looked at me, his eyebrows raised, and I nodded as he moved to sit next to our nephew, and hold him in his arms.

“It’s okay, Jarod,” Dave cooed to him. “We thought you might be.”

The boy looked up suddenly, his face ashen. “Is it that obvious? Can everyone tell just by looking at me?” There was a note of panic in his voice.

“No, no,” Dave soothed him. “But you’ve been wanting to say something all day, and there had to be a reason for someone your age giving up a weekend to stay with his old uncles.”

Jarod bristled. “You’re not old! And I love being here. I’d want to come and stay even if I didn’t have anything to tell you!”

“Well, thank you for the compliment,” I said, joining them. “It doesn’t matter that you’re gay. In fact, we’re kinda proud that you chose us to tell first.”

“I couldn’t tell anyone else,” he said softly, his voice trailing away to silence.

“What about your mother?” Dave asked.

“Mum? No way. She’d be shocked, and disappointed, and upset.”

I looked at him, my heart going out to him. “I don’t think so, Jarod. Who do you think told us that she thought you wanted to spend the weekend with us because you needed to tell someone about yourself?”

He looked at me, disbelief in his eyes. “No way!”

Dave held him again. “Yes, Jarod. And she is really worried for you – not that you’re gay, but that you’re having trouble accepting it, or telling anyone about how you feel, who you are.”

He sat there, shaking his head, as Dave and I surrounded him, a group hug holding the three of us together. Jarod’s eyes filled again and he started to cry softly. “It’s okay,” Dave said to him. “No need to be upset.”

“I’m not upset, I’m just well, relieved, and so happy,” Jarod sniffed. “I don’t believe how good it feels, being able to talk about it.”

I laughed softly remembering my own coming out. Dave joined me and we kissed again. Jarod peeked up at us from his blanket.

“There’s more,” he said.

“Go on,” Dave sat back again, his arms around the young man.

“There’s this guy at school – we’re on the cycling team together. He is just gorgeous. I think I’m in love with him, but I don’t know how he feels, and I can’t bring myself to say anything to him.”

Dave and I, as one, broke out in bellowing laughs, guffaws that rocked us both as we sat there. Jarod looked from one to the other and back again, confused and hurt. “It’s not that funny!” he said, a pout on his lips.

“My man,” I said, still chuckling. “Dave and I were on the swimming team together at school. Both of us wanted the other, but neither of us was game to say anything. We ached for each other, but never got together. It wasn’t until years later that we finally told each other how we had felt. We missed out on so much time together because we couldn’t tell ourselves, or anyone else, what we were feeling.”

“No!” he said. His eyes bored into each us, me first and then Dave. Finally he accepted the truth of what we were saying, and began to laugh along with us. It was a tremendous release for him, and the weight of his worries lifted from his young shoulders as he shared something with us that none of us had expected.

Eventually, we regained our composure. “Well,” I declared. “We’re not going to let you make the same mistake we did. I won’t guarantee you that you and…”

“Peter,” he said, the feeling in his voice unmistakable.

“I won’t guarantee that you and Peter will actually turn out to be a couple, or even that he will want you. He may not even be gay, but at least we can try to make sure you don’t miss out on any possibilities, the way we did.”

“How close are you, as friends?” Dave asked. “Does he spend time at your house? Do you go out together at all?”

“Yeah,” Jarod sounded uncertain. “He comes over to home from time to time. Obviously we spend a lot of time together at practice and at meets with the team. And we sometimes go to the movies, or get a burger together after school.”

Dave thought about it. “Ever spend a weekend together at his place or yours?”

“Once. I stayed with him and his folks when they went down the coast one weekend. But nothing happened between us; just fishing and swimming and that.”

“It’s okay Jarod,” Dave said. “I’m not suggesting anything like that. I’m just trying to come up with some ideas. Do you have any reason to think he might be interested in you? Romantically I mean?”

“Umm, sometimes I see him looking at me in the change rooms after a meet. But whenever he sees me looking, he always looks away really quickly. And pretends like he wasn’t looking at all.”

Dave and I looked at each other, smiles breaking out on both our faces, a knowing look passing between us. I steered the conversation away from Peter for a while, drawing Jarod out about how he felt, letting him talk about his feelings about being gay. I knew that by talking it out he would find a great deal of relief from the tension he must have been experiencing.

As he spoke, Dave sat and listened, but I could see he was hatching some kind of plan in his head. Jarod talked for hours, well into the night, and we sat and listened, feeling for this articulate, handsome young man, so much like us when we were his age, and yet so different too.

Eventually, the talking slowed as tiredness came upon us. I bundled Jarod off to bed, and dragged my man into our room. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Dave answered. “Let me sleep on it, and I’ll discuss what I have in mind before I run it past Jarod, okay?”

“Okay, stud! I love you, you know.”

“I know,” he grinned. “I love you, too.”

The next morning Dave and I were up and about long before Jarod showed his face. We were sitting on the back deck when he finally appeared, wandering out to us with a tired expression on his face.

“Morning, Uncs,” he called, earning himself a dark look from me. “Oh, yeah, sorry, morning Mike, morning Dave,” he corrected himself with a grin. “Any coffee?”

“If you’re old enough to drink it, you’re old enough to make it yourself,” Dave said with a smile at me.

“I’ll have a refill while you’re at it,” I said quickly, winking at Dave. Jarod grumbled something under his breath, but got himself a coffee, and a top-up for me. He sat in silence for a while sipping at the brew while the three of us just looked out onto the spring morning. It was Jarod who broke the quiet.

“Dave, Mike, I just want to say thanks for yesterday, for listening and letting me talk. I can’t believe how much better it feels to have brought it out in the open.”

I smiled warmly at our nephew, as Dave reached over to him and gave him a gentle cuff on the shoulder. “Anytime, Jarod,” he said. “If you ever want to talk about anything at all, Mike and I will both be here for you.”

“You still have to tell your mother,” I cautioned, “although I’m sure it won’t be as hard as you think.”

“Maybe not,” Jarod looked unconvinced.

“And just a suggestion,” I went on. “I think maybe just tell her you’re gay for now. Let her get used to it before you start talking to her about possible boyfriends, okay?” Dave grinned, and Jarod nodded slowly, taking it all to heart.

“On that subject,” Dave interjected, “I have an idea.” Jarod looked up quickly, and I nodded to Dave to go on. He had already told me his plan and I agreed it was a good way to help.

Jarod looked up as he continued. “Newtown Street Fair is on in a few weeks from now. It’s nothing special, but it involves closing the main street and setting up stalls and entertainment and whatever. Does that sound like something you would like to go to?”

“Yeah,” said Jarod enthusiastically, but with a question in his voice.

“Why don’t you ask Peter if he’d like to spend a weekend with you at your crusty old uncle’s place, to go to the fair and just generally get away from the family? That will sound innocent enough, and once we can see his reaction to your uncle being gay, and all the weird and wonderful sights he’ll see at the Fair, then you’ll know whether it’s safe to tell him how you feel.”

Jarod’s eyes lit up as he listened to Dave’s proposal, a grin splitting his face. “Thanks,” he said at last, “Thank you Dave, thank you Mike, I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

We smiled at him, as plans were made for the weekend with his friend at our home. It felt good to be helping him like this, and I wondered how much different things might have been for us had we had someone to help out when we were his age.

*****

The planned weekend arrived quickly enough. We had plotted with Jarod to try to keep things as innocent as possible. If it turned out that Peter was straight, we didn’t want Jarod or him getting hurt anymore than was absolutely necessary. Although I felt uneasy at the way we were proposing to manipulate the young boy we didn’t even know, Dave convinced me that it was for the best.

As their cab pulled up outside, I called to Dave who went to open the door to meet them. I waited, out of sight, in the bedroom.

“Jarod!” I heard Dave call out. “How are you, my boy? And you must be Peter! Welcome, come on in.” I heard a muffled response from Jarod, and another voice, although I couldn’t make out the words, and then footsteps as they started along the hallway.

“It’s really good of you to have us for the weekend, Mr. Mitchell, I’m looking forward to it,” said an unfamiliar voice, obviously Jarod’s friend.

“Not at all,” boomed Dave, and I’ll have none of this ‘Mr. Mitchell’ business. From now on, it’s ‘Dave’, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” said the voice.

I wandered casually out to face the three, trying to act like I had just heard them.

“Hi,” I called. “Jarod, good to see you again,” I said as I shook his hand. “Peter? Nice to meet you.” Peter’s face registered confusion, as Jarod spoke up.

“Peter, this is Uncle Mike, Uncle Dave’s partner.”

Peter stood there, shaking my hand uncertainly, as Dave admonished Jarod gently. “What have we told you? We’re Mike and Dave – no ‘Uncle’ – it makes us feel old.”

“Make yourselves at home, boys,” I said, showing them into the guest bedroom. “You have a choice, you can either bunk down together in the double bed, or toss a coin to see who gets the foldout, but we’ll worry about that later. For now, leave your things here, and come on out to the deck. We’ll have a coffee and settle in before we head up to Newtown, okay? And you, handsome,” I added, directing my words to Dave, “get out here and help me with the coffee while these two unpack.”

Dave took a pretend swipe at my arse with his hand. “Bossy, isn’t he?” he said in a loud whisper addressed to the boys, then turned and kissed me quickly as I glared at him. We played our roles like seasoned actors.

Jarod stifled a grin as he replied, “Yes, sir!” and Dave followed me out of the room. We ignored the open jaw and blushing face of Peter as we left.

From the kitchen I could hear Jarod and Peter in conversation, muffled but distinct.

“You’re uncle is gay!” Peter said in a shocked voice.

“Uhh, yeah, I guess so,” replied Jarod.

“But you never told me.”

“I never thought about it. Dave and Mike have always been together. They’re just my uncles, I don’t think of them as gay, just as them!” Jarod had rehearsed his answers well, and I permitted myself a smile as I walked away to join Dave on the patio with a tray of coffee cups and biscuits. The two boys joined us a few minutes later.

“So, Peter, Jarod tells us you’re on the cycling team together,” stated Dave as they sat with us.

“Y, yes, sir, uhh, I mean yes, Dave,” Peter stammered. The conversation was then steered into neutral territory, as we discussed the team’s chances, school in general, remembered our own school achievements on the swimming team and generally talked about whatever seemed to interest the two young men. Slowly Peter relaxed in our company, joining in the discussion, although I caught him several times staring intently at either myself or Dave, and trying not to make his concentration obvious.

Soon enough, we packed up the remnants of our snack, and walked up to King Street, into the throng of the Street Fair. Newtown being what it was, there were thousands of people there, gay couples and singles, Goths and punks, straight couples with children, yuppies and old Greek men, all mixing together in the cosmopolitan melting pot Dave and I enjoyed so much. The stalls offered every imaginable ware, from “Save the Forests” bumper stickers to bongs and incense sticks, from cheap Indian jewelry to very expensive high-fashion clothing. Jarod and Peter both gasped and stared quite often at the sights they were confronted with, and Dave and I held hands as we strolled along, nodding to some of the familiar faces. Peter could not keep his eyes still, turning this way and that, trying to take it all in, and Jarod too was enthralled by the mix and variety of the people and the goods on offer.

After several hours of wandering and looking, occasionally stopping to pick something up and examine it, even to make a purchase here and there, Dave declared that it was time to stop and sit down. We squeezed ourselves into one of the tiny tables on the footpath outside a café, grabbing the four chairs we needed, and collapsed as a very good looking and slightly effeminate guy came to take our order. As he scribbled on his pad, he smiled at us, and winked openly at Jarod and Peter, the latter of whom blushed deep red, but whose eyes followed him as retreated to the kitchen, before returning to fix on Jarod with a renewed gleam.

Finally, we returned home, tired but pleased with ourselves. Taking up our seats on the patio again, I poured each of us, including the boys, a glass of red wine as they began to examine the trinkets they had bought. Jarod took his glass as if born to it, while Peter looked guilty as he sipped his wine, then became bolder as none of us made any reference or comment about it. The shadows lengthened as we sat and relaxed, chatting easily now. I made a comment to Dave about spending way too much on a set of champagne flutes he’d purchased and he tried to look contrite as he turned to me with a false frown.

“But you love me anyway, don’t you?” he whined plaintively. Jarod chuckled, and I reached my hand to Dave’s head, pulling gently on his ear.

“Of course I do, handsome,” I said, and leaned to him, kissing him tenderly, and for longer than was necessary. As I sat back into my chair again, I saw Peter staring goggle-eyed at us, his cheeks turning bright scarlet for possibly the hundredth time that day. Now was the chance I had been looking for.

“Jarod,” I said quietly, “would you grab another bottle of wine from the rack for us?” He nodded and disappeared to do as asked. I turned to his friend. “Peter, I’ve noticed you blushing, and staring at Dave and me, and at some of the other gay guys in Newtown this afternoon.” His embarrassment returned as his eyes fell to the table. I went on in a soft, and hopefully comforting voice. “It’s okay, but I was wondering if you feel uncomfortable being with us. Are you uneasy with gay people?”

“No, si … no, Mike,” he said in a tiny voice.

Dave took my hand, squeezing it in reassurance as I went on. “It’s okay if you aren’t comfortable,” I said. “We understand that some people have difficulties accepting us. What we don’t want is for you to be uneasy being here, or to spoil the weekend for you or Jarod. We’re not going to change, or stop doing what we do, especially in our own home, but if you would be happier, we can arrange to send both of you home. Dave can phone both Jarod’s parents and yours, and give them some excuse about having unexpected guests arrive so that we’ve no room for you to stay, if that would make things easier for you.”

Peter lifted his face to me suddenly. “NO!” he exploded, with an intensity, which surprised both of us. “I want to stay, if that’s all right?”

“Of course it is! We were simply concerned that you might be feeling uneasy, or threatened in some way.”

Peter looked long and hard at me, as I noticed Jarod coming back to the deck where we sat. Trying not to be obvious, I motioned for Jarod to wait where he was. I could sense Peter was turning over in his head what to say in response to my words.

“Mike,” he began, softly, almost whispering. “I’m not uncomfortable at all. I think it’s fantastic that you and Dave are so open, and so loving. I guess I’m just not used to seeing two guys together and not trying to hide how they feel. Honestly, I’m really enjoying your hospitality and your company, and I’d like to stay.”

I smiled warmly at him, as Dave stepped into the conversation. “That’s fine by us, Peter,” he said with a grin. “We’re enjoying your company too. You’re a fine young man, and we’re very happy that Jarod has such good friends. Just so long as you aren’t upset or nervous about being with gay people.”

“Not at all, Dave,” Peter answered quickly and at ease now. “I feel more at home here with you than I have anywhere for a long while!” he added.

As Peter spoke, Jarod moved forward again, placing the bottle he was carrying on the table. I looked up to see his face beaming at what he had heard. In my head I repeated what we had told him when we planned the weekend – go slowly, don’t rush him!

“I’m so pleased you said that!” Jarod smiled to Peter as he sat down and I re-filled all our glasses. A new, confident Jarod was emerging now. He continued, “I have something to tell you, Peter, that I’ve wanted to say for a while, but wasn’t game.” Slowly Jarod! I thought to myself. I could see Dave too was watching both of them closely, concern on his face. “Peter, I’m gay too.” He stopped, sat back, and watched. I breathed a long slow sigh of relief that Jarod hadn’t blurted out his feelings for Peter, and looked to the other boy.

Peter’s face went white, then red. His mouth fell open as he tried to find words and failed. He took several sharp quick breaths and tried again. “You are?” the shock was obvious and real.

“Yep,” said Jarod simply. “But I needed to know how you felt about gay guys before I told you. That’s one of the reasons I asked you to spend the weekend with me at Dave and Mike’s. Are you okay about this?” he asked, now his face filled with concern as he looked to his friend for a reaction.

Peter took a long draft from his wine. He sat there with all three of us looking at him, and I hoped we weren’t ‘ganging up’ on him. He sat back and lifted his eyes again, staring directly at Jarod. “Yeah, mate,” he said at last. “We’re best friends aren’t we? Of course I’m okay with it. I’m even glad you told me.”

“Apart from Dave and Mike, and my mum,” Jarod said softly, “you’re the first person I’ve told.”

Peter looked at him again, his eyes wide. “Wow!” he said. “Then I’m more than glad, I’m honoured,” he said sincerely.

“Thanks!” said Jarod, his eyes moist. Peter and he embraced, hugging each other the way best friends do. After that silence descended for a while, as Dave and I sat watching the boys, and Jarod and Peter retreated into their own thoughts for a while. Both of the young men seemed to be wrestling with themselves inside, but I guessed that the time for words from us was now passed.

Surprisingly, it was Peter who broke the silence. “Mike,” he said softly, “do you mind if I ask how you and Dave met? You know, how you knew that you were right for each other?”

I looked at him in surprise, and Dave started to laugh. When Peter appeared confused, I reassured him. “No, I don’t mind at all,” I smiled. “Please ignore my rude husband! In fact, I’ll let him tell you the story!”

Trying to keep his mirth under control, Dave detailed the whole tale of our lives, from being at school together, to meeting each other when we were involved with other people, the time when he moved to Melbourne, everything. He spared no detail, and both boys listened intently, even Jarod had not heard the full history of our courtship before. I let him go on as I quickly threw together a light meal and brought it to the table. Dave finished up with the story of our wedding day, and this time he included Jarod’s mother’s comment about suspecting that Jarod might be gay, even back then. All of us laughed, even Jarod, despite his reddening cheeks at hearing of his mother’s suspicions so long ago.

We sat and ate dinner as four friends, and drank more wine. The boys were far from drunk, and I suspected that the alcohol was helping them speak openly, so I didn’t discourage them. Dave and I laid our souls bare to them as they asked questions about our experiences, our feelings, and the things that had happened to us. It wasn’t exactly a sex education lesson, but some of the things they asked were quite personal. Still, we were determined to keep the discussion frank and open, so we tried our best to answer everything without blushing or holding back. And the two young men seemed to appreciate our honesty.

As we relaxed again, our hunger sated, Peter looked from me to Dave and back again. He took a sip of wine, and addressed us both. “So, if you were on the school swimming team together, why didn’t you get together then, instead of waiting for years and going through all the things you did?”

Jarod looked up quickly, and I suppressed a wry grin. “Because we were too scared to tell each other, or anyone else back then, that we were gay.” I said quietly, looking at Dave, whose eyes were sparkling.

Peter went silent at that, his eyes falling to the table. He looked up at Jarod as if to speak, then stopped and examined the dirty plate in front of him again. Sensing that he needed some privacy, I stood and began collecting the dishes. “Hey, stud,” I said to Dave, “give me a hand to clean up, okay?” Dave nodded understanding and grabbed the rest of the crockery, following me into the kitchen, as Jarod and Peter remained in their seats.

Dave and I busied ourselves at the counter, making as much noise as possible. Peter sat for a moment then looked up at Jarod, who was sitting with his own face down, seemingly concentrating on his shoelaces.

“Jarod,” he said in a near whisper. Jarod looked up at him, wide eyed, his heart beating fast. “I, umm, oh God, I don’t know how to say this, …”

“Just say it, mate,” encouraged Jarod. “After everything else that’s been said tonight, nothing’s gonna surprise me. We’re friends, remember?”

Peter coughed, clearing his throat. “It’s just, well, what Dave said, you know, about him and Mike not being game to tell each other how they felt at school…”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I, umm…shit!” stammered Peter. Jarod leaned over to him, taking one of Peter’s hands in his, and squeezing reassuringly. Peter took another breath, then blurted out quickly, as if he were worried he might not get through his sentence, “Hell, Jarod, that’s how I feel about you! I dream about being with you, I want to be with you, but I’ve been too scared to tell you how I felt in case you got mad, or didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I’m gay too, and I was wondering how you felt about me?”

Jarod didn’t answer him with words. He grinned a huge smile, his chest almost bursting with happiness, and leaned forward and kissed Peter long and gently. I saw them from where Dave and I were, and nudged my man in the ribs. “Look!” I whispered, indicating the boys. Dave glanced at them and smiled.

We each took two mugs of coffee and headed for the deck, coughing to announce our arrival. Peter and Jarod separated quickly, both looking embarrassed, as I sat down pretending I hadn’t noticed a thing. It was all too much for Dave. He began to laugh, his body shaking with mirth, until he calmed down enough to ask, “So, anything you two would like to share with us oldies?”

That got all of us laughing then, as the moment passed, tension disappearing and Peter and Jarod feeling comfortable again. Jarod announced proudly, “Peter and I are going steady!”

Peter grinned self-consciously yet again. “Congratulations!” I said.

Dave just beamed at our nephew and his new boyfriend. “Time for bed!” he declared with a wink. “Do you guys want me to get out the trundle?”

“Umm, no thanks,” said Peter, the blood returning to his cheeks as he held Jarod’s hand tightly.

“Then, goodnight guys!” I said. “And let me assure you, the walls are very thick!” I grinned widely at them both and took Dave’s hand in mine as we began to lock up the house for the night. As Peter and Jarod disappeared into their room, I caught Jarod’s eye, and whispered very quietly, “Just in case – there’s lube in the nightstand.” Now it was his turn to blush, but I pretended not to notice.

Dave made love to me that night with a vitality and an intensity we hadn’t known for some time. As he came, filling me with his seed, I shook with delight and emptied myself over both of us. Lying there together, recovering as my cum squelched between us, I clenched my sphincter around his still hard shaft, buried within me. “I love you,” I said with feeling.

“I love you too,” he replied. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”

“Well we can’t shield them from the problems they’ll face, but at least we’ve stopped them making our first mistake,” I smiled to him. A tremendous sense of having done something really important descended on us as Dave started to move back and forward inside me again.

“Ready for another go?” he asked mischievously.

“I’m game if you are,” I hissed back with a lust-filled laugh.

The End.

Comments, complaints or compliments? Email me at iainlthr@hotmail.com