Gay Erotic Stories

SINGLE DAD When my wife left me with the two kids (a girl 10 and a boy 9), I was 31. The reasons she decided that she had enough of married life and motherhood is not important. I had the support of both her and my families and enough income to assure the children could be raised fine by me alone. I think she knew that, but again the reasons mean little. Being single again meant that I could pretty much have what I wanted in the way of women - many even interested in moving in and helping with the children. My daughter, however, was very particular as to the woman she "just might" accept into the household. The boy seemed not to care although he was often involved in the discussions over breakfast after I had gone out the previous evening with one or another of the women with whom I had been introduced, met or set up by caring friends (and family). The latter included the parents and siblings of the ex-wife. I was blessed with willing babysitters from everywhere from the grandparents to my secretary at work (who also sent a few women my way). I rarely spent a night with any of those I dated. I had accompanied some home to their places and became intimate - i.e. I fucked their brains out! Most I just enjoyed their company and ended the night with friendly kisses. The routine of family life without a mother was pat. I did not employ a housekeeper and became quite adept at keeping everything going from getting myself and the kids up, fed breakfast and out the door of a morning to school and work without problem. I was a presentable enough cook and cleaner to have family and other gatherings at the house (to include sleep-overs) and was known as a good parent. I balanced the kids' activities along with my own - again supportive family often got one or the other of the children to a game or dance lesson when I was running late. I was admired by the teachers and schools as I always made appointments to discuss that occurring with my little ones...who as it happens started getting older. My wife had been gone for six years when I started thinking I needed to get serious about a relationship. I had dated about everyone I found attractive, but there was no one I had met or been with that I would want to move into our home. Although my daughter had given passing grades to a number of the women I had courted over the years, she had (as had I) in the end thought them best kept outside the family situation. I continued to be a popular date and sexually active enough that I was "not hurting." When my daughter started driving and then seriously dating, my life changed. She was not as giving as was I when my son and I began judging whatever boy she was seeing became a breakfast topic. She would accuse us of being insensitive and without a female point of view. My son found that terribly hilarious and said something to the effect that it was because he and I did not like "dick." She immediately responded that she knew that both her brother and I loved our own dicks enough to cause her to lose sleep hearing us cry out in the middle of the night after a jack-off session. I was shocked, and my son was pissed. I told my daughter her imaginings were a defense, but I wondered at the many times I found myself masturbating if she had not, in fact, been a party to an orgasm. I knew that what she reported about her brother was also true. I had spoken to him about this a few years before and, giving my approval, did not doubt that he exercised his penis to thoughts of most anything. My heart to hearts with my daughter had also included talk about her maturing into a woman and all that meant. I had requested that she tell me if she desired to be sexually active with a boy so that we could arrange for protection and even birth control. Both my children knew of the dangers of unsafe sex. I practiced safe sex myself although the times were less and less. One boy that my daughter began seeing regularly came to the house often. He was mannerly and, I believed, respecting of my daughter and me. I did not need to set limits for him because I knew that she had. Even my son liked this fellow and the two of them would often be found watching television together while my daughter was off getting ready or, more likely, talking on the telephone. I would often sit and join the three of them when they were watching movies, games or other shows. I trusted my daughter and her choice in this young man. They had been seeing each other for approximately six months when he asked if me and the kids could come to his home to have dinner with he and his father. I had heard my daughter say that his dad was also a single dad, but it never registered as much as then. My daughter encouraged the meeting, stating that she had met his father and that he, like me, was "cool." That is always a nice way to get a father accepting of almost anything. Although my son opted out of the invitation to go with another friend to a popular movie, my daughter and I (with her driving) went to the home of the young man and his father. Their home appeared as nice as ours and was even fairly close to it. We were there in less than ten minutes and, as it turned out, early. As we approached the front door, it opened and out came this man of about 30-35 pulling on his shirt and stuffing its tails into his open trousers. His apology for running into us while he continued down the driveway and then into a car parked at the curb did little to make me comfortable. The "they're here, get your ass down here" which emanated from inside the open door made us both stop and, I think, reconsider continuing on into the home. The boy then appeared at the open doorway and invited us into the home. Compared to our place, this one was opulent with what appeared to be original paintings and custom furniture throughout that viewed as we entered. The boyfriend was also arranging himself as he remarked that we were early, stuffing the last of his polo shirt bottom into his slacks. "My dad will be right down if you want a drink," he offered and directed us toward a living room that was like that seen from the entryway. It was a nice sight to see the young man peck my daughter on the cheek with his lips and then shake my hand. I noted that his hands were as wet as was his hair. After we had seated ourselves and surveyed the room, the boy asked if we wanted "Cokes" or other nonalcoholic drinks. I refrained although my daughter said that a Coke would be nice. He left the room and, as he did, my daughter and I looked at one another. I sensed that she was not telling me everything about the boy or his father, but she did not say anything except "it will be all right." She added something to the effect that the young man and his father had wanted everything perfect for the evening. An "excuse me" seemed to precede the entrance into the room of a man who to my surprise (and that of my daughter) appeared from nowhere. His voice was deep and seemed to resonate throughout the space in which we found ourselves. He was huge and soon stood towering above the both of us as he offered his hand to me. I found it difficult to stand and take his hand, quietly murmuring my name and thanking him for the invitation to dinner. He then allowed his name and that it was not very often that he was afforded the opportunity to meet the friends of his son and that this was especially welcome because his son had said such nice things about my daughter and I. I commented how much I liked his son, how he even got along with my son whose sister thought was the devil incarnate and dealt with my being a single, maybe over-protective dad. His father said that his son had a lot of practice at the latter. The boyfriend reappeared with a Coke for my daughter and he and again asked if I was sure I did not want anything. His father invited me into "my room" and said to his son that he was hopeful I would join in a "man's drink." The room was the kitchen. It was twice the size of the one in our home and filled with smells that I could not recognize let alone think of ever creating. "Mind if I call you John? I, if you did not catch it, am Clare; short for Clarence instead of the 'girl' name." "Not at all. How long have you been a single father?" "All his life, but the whys and wherefores are unspeakable. You?" "Almost the same, or so it seems. Really only about six years. We do not talk about the circumstances either." We sat around talking about our jobs, our kids and homes while sipping "men's" drinks. Clare was also moving around from stove top pans to the oven and onto an already set table directly outside "his room." His voice resonated throughout the rooms as he spoke, and I found myself wishing I could create such tone. I also started thinking that this guy must have more than strong diaphragm and lungs and caught myself imagining that he must have a set of balls I really could not imagine anyone having. The picture I conjured of what might be was a surprise, but not unwelcome. He was about 6'3" and appeared all muscle. His shirt fit tightly over a chest I had decided he worked on to keep it "puffed" out so much. When he moved away from behind the counter where he had seated me across from him, I glanced downward at his trousers. They were looser than the shirt and revealed nothing but a sense that his legs were as well developed as his chest. I wondered if he was wearing boxers or briefs and what might best hold the imagined balls making that voice. I felt a stirring in my own groin and was unable to answer a question I did not really hear coming from him. Thankfully I was covered by the counter top which separated us as I recognized my thoughts were causing me to become erect. What was going on? "Sorry, what did you ask?" I thought my voice might be breaking in forcing my mind away from that occurring with my dick. "Nothing really. Just wondering what those kids of ours are up to. You want to tell them that we need to get to eating in about two minutes?" "Yeah, but let me finish this up," I said, raising my almost empty glass up to his view and reaching with my other hand down to my crotch to push my semi-hard dick back into place in my boxer briefs. I glanced downward, hoping that a wet spot had not developed on the front of my khaki trousers. I was at a loss as to how to explain my feelings to myself and would be even more hard pressed to excuse something like that. "Right back," I called as I noted no problem, swiveled away from my seat at the counter and stood. "Wrong way." I heard that thunderous voice say as I headed toward the one door I had seen before me. I stopped and turned toward the sound. Clare was then facing me from across the kitchen and pointing in another direction. I sensed that his eyes were looking at me from my head to my feet and I again looked down at myself to see if I was 'together.' Was it again my imagination that I was somehow showing the raging hard-on that I had earlier begin to feel or that his eyes seemed to stare there for some other reason? The smile I tried to attach to the "stupid me" I uttered would hopefully (along with my voice) bring his eyes back to my face. The dinner was magnificent. I did not think I had better in any of the five star restaurants into which I took many of my dates when I wanted to impress them. I told Clare the same and welcomed his head nod to me and "thank you." I thought that his look toward me at that time and the wink or blink of his eye was very seductive. Our goodbyes after he had his son and my daughter clear the table and put all the dinnerware into the washer, we polished off our meal with cognac and cigar with additional chat about our jobs, hobbies and, of course, children and me gathering my daughter after the finish of a movie they watched in a den for the ride home seemed to want to signal further get-togethers. I even stated that I would like to return the invitation and have them join us for dinner soon and was happy when Clare said "sure." "You have my number?" He had asked this as I placed my arm over my daughter's shoulder and turned to walk to our car. My stopping and turning back to look at Clare again surprised me along with the feeling that I wanted that last look at him before the night was really over. "I am sure our kids can help with that." His "I don't even give him my private number" and his placing his arm across his son's shoulder found me at a loss for words. At that, he reached into one of his pants pockets and reached out to hand me a business card. "Do not give that number to anyone, especially your precious one there. She has his and that is good enough. It is an adult line only." My mind, like my eyes falling back to the front of Clare's trousers, was lost in thoughts I had never before felt. I again murmured a "thanks" and slipped the proffered card into my own pants pocket. This man had been magical. His job as a contractor did not match with his culinary expertise or the question that kept arising about the other man we had seen exiting the house when we had arrived for that wonderful dinner. I tried to connect the images, wondering at the same time why I had this need to do that. I was enamored with his size, voice and general appearance which I started thinking was handsome and manly. I could not shake the pictures of him without his shirt, pants or even naked before me. The number, which I had memorized, also clicked unexpectedly into my thoughts without warning. I felt the same stirring I had been so afraid would show that night with them, but, I later considered, never thinking that there was anything wrong with that. I had never been intimate with a man beyond the hugs and infrequent kisses on the cheek that I gave my father, my father-in-law and older brother when we met or parted after a month or two apart. Even more disturbing was the seemingly constant "recording" in my mind of the voice that Clare had been found to have that evening. One night as I was stoking my cock while reading a totally 'sexless' novel, it seemed to appear as that of the first person narrative. I had laid the book aside and pushed my pajama bottoms down to cup my testicles with one hand while finishing myself off with the other. The "Oh, Clare" I uttered (hopefully not too loud) as I shot three heavy spurts of cum across my hairy stomach and pubic area was not meant. There were a couple of times that I sat near the telephone on my desk both at work and at home that first week after our meeting that I wanted to call the number. I knew that I was unprepared to make the return invitation for dinner I had said I would want Clare and his son to have at our home. Why else call him? It was too soon to be socially acceptable to make that arrangement sound right...and how could I think I could come close to making anything close to what my daughter and I had experienced in his home. I tried to remember what Clare had said he liked to do, but I could not think of anything which would provide reason for a call to that "adult line." The voice on the other end of the line was Clare's although the message stated only that I had reached the number I had dialed and that I should leave my own. I hung up when again I felt a shift in the direction of my cock in my shorts. I was at the office and it was after closing time. I was probably alone as I did not hear anything or anyone outside. I had earlier telephoned the house to tell the kids I would be delayed and had left a message to that effect on my daughter's voice mail when neither the home phone or her line was picked up. They were old enough to get their own meal if it came to that, and I was sure I remembered that each had made other plans for the evening that they had told me about before we had left home this a.m. I went back to a project on my desk that I had been perusing when I had decided to call Clare. Another five minutes and I would be out the door like the rest of the office. The ringing of the telephone on the desk startled me, but I answered with a "yes, honey," sure that my daughter was calling back. Clare said, "But I hardly know you my dear." The "oh, shit" slipped out before I could catch myself. "I thought you was one of the kids." I did not think the excuse was necessary after it, too, escaped my lips. "Clare." "That was your number, John? Nice surprise." The voice was again making me conjure up thoughts of what all produced it. Especially the idea that it came somewhere from below the belt. I was hard in an instant this time. The fact that he would have caller ID never entered my mind. I had considered asking him to accompany me for a drink and maybe dinner to further express my appreciation for the invitation to his home. "What's up? You playing at bachelorhood like me this evening? I think our kids are together or so said the note I found on the refrigerator when I walked in a couple of minutes ago." "Yeah, but I am still at the office and cannot remember what mine had said that they were to be doing. I was calling to ask if you might join me for a drink and maybe a bite to eat on me. I continue to think about all the trouble you went to for just my thank you. It was much too nice for that." "Well, thank you. I would love to get together again with you, but a couple of friends are coming over later to play some cards. You would be welcome to join us, but I recall you had said that was not an interest." My mind went back to that which Clare and I spoke in that first meeting. Although I am not a gambler, I could not remember stating anything about cards. Maybe he had assumed that when he had commented that he made regular trips to an Indian casino near the city. My "oh, yeah" was much weaker than the voice that now had me feeling my cock through the front of my trousers. "Well, some other time, then. Maybe soon." "Look, John, what are you doing tomorrow night? I would really like to hook up again with you. I have thought about our meeting and thinking how easy it was for me to talk with you. If not tomorrow, sometime in the next couple of days." "Sure Clare. I would make a date for tomorrow evening, but I never know until the last minute sometimes what it is to occur either at home or here. Can we pencil it in for then anyway because now it looks open. Like you, I was comfortable talking. Dinner is on me, but you can choose the place, money no object." His "I like my men that easy" and my rubbing my cock as we spoke created the link to connect that rising from my balls to escape. "Oh!" "You okay, buddy?" Clare's voice came with the second shot and sound which accompanied that coming out of me from top and bottom. "Spilled a cup onto me. Sorry for the interruption." "Although I would like to help you with your problem, it sounds as if you had better get off here and to work on it. I will call you in the morning about times and places. Later, John." The goodbye I stated before we disconnected was another weak response. I could not believe my reaction to the call. I had come all over myself just hearing his voice and a bit of masturbating. I begin to wonder how an evening with Clare face to face and alone would go. I thought about his statements, too. It was evident he was quick witted from the first time, but making reference to other men so easily...? That I was turned on by a voice and a male one when I never before had harbored thoughts... My trip home in my wet, then sticky and later "starchy" Jockeys by the time I was there was filled with more thoughts of what this all meant. I had sensed that I at times became erect, but that would disappear when I considered that these were things that could and did not occur between fathers. I was not that naive and knew a number of gay men and women that I had no problems with when together with them in business and social situations. I had never before been "turned on" by the thought of another man or even imagined what they did if found together in bed. I was not a voyeur and never watched a porn tape in my life. I also had never worried or been concerned when in the company of the naked men I saw in the gym from high school, college and my twice weekly workouts at a spa. Nor did I ever recall anyone taking any particular interest in me in that condition. I was comfortable with my body and especially so when I exposed to the women I had bedded. What would it be like with Clare? His voice was magnificent and provided the impetus to the stirrings and all that followed earlier. But I found myself wanting to undress him and sharing more intimacy than a friend. What was occurring? The kids were not at home, and I, too, found a note saying that they had gone with the boyfriend to a movie and would be home within two hours from now. I went into my bedroom and removed my clothes. My underwear smelled of my earlier coming as I pressed them into my face and inhaled. I had once before tasted my cum after masturbating, but did not remember if it one way or another. I now sucked in the crotch, wetting the hardness of the material to savor what had escaped. I sensed urine mixed with saltiness of the other taste that came from them. I lowered them and then raised the Jockeys back into my mouth. I turned toward the full length mirror nearby and saw that my cock had again risen away from my body. I came within a couple of minutes while still sucking that remaining on my underwear. I had caught enough of the couple of squirts from my penis in my hand and, spitting out the shorts, brought the stickiness back and into my mouth. I wondered if all men tasted the same. I could not differentiate from that I had tasted before in the cotton material I had sucked. There was still the hint of piss in the warmth of the gooey liquid. My hardness stayed with me throughout a hot, then cold shower and I later fell asleep with it still raging as I heard and pictured Clare. I did not hear the kids come in that night and was shocked when I awoke to the alarm and to find myself still hard and the hair on my stomach and pubes matted with probable emissions (nocturnal!). I rarely slept nude, but there I was lying across the bed with the sheets and blanket half off and onto the floor surrounding me. I pulled a sheet upward and rolled onto my stomach and was reminded of the voice of Clare. That of my son came next as he knocked once on the door and then opened it into my room. "What the...?" My son seemed to wiggle his nose as I looked up at him. His eyes, as well, appeared to be searching the room and then stopped at the pile of my removed clothes below the bed. "Smells funny in here. Did you have one of your girlfriends in for the evening?" "Nope. Just a night alone with a handy friend." I remained in the bed and covered with the sheet. My son said something to the effect that his sister would die smelling all this air and turned to leave. "Son." My words stopped him and he again turned toward me. "This is between us, remember?' He left without saying anything. I did not worry that he would say a word about what he had seen, but I did think that he was a candidate for a lot of the fantasies in which I now found myself lost. He was a healthy young man and, despite his fifteen years, quite a charmer. I climbed out of the bed and threw the bedding which was on the floor onto it. I also picked up the Jockeys. They remained damp, and I again brought them up to my nose. I had lost my hard-on when my son had come into the room and I willed myself not to experience another as I tossed the shorts into a hamper, hung the clothes from last night and walked into the bathroom. In ten minutes, I had shaved, showered and dressed not once thinking about what might occur outside of work today. The kids were finishing up in the kitchen when I entered. I noted that they were more quiet than usual and said so. "What's up with you two?" "You have a message," my daughter said. "And I am interested in why." "What is it?" "It is from T...'s dad and asking you to give him a call. I do not like this - you feeling the need to discuss what we are doing." "Sweety, it has nothing to do with you or T... . I so enjoyed the meeting with Clare that I wanted to repay by buying him a meal, and we talked about doing it tonight." "I still don't like it and neither does T... . He said that he felt his dad was behind this because Clare, as you call him, told T... he would like to get you in the sack. He is a fag, Dad, and that guy we saw coming out of the house as we arrived the other night is one of his boyfriends." Despite feeling that this was somehow more right than wrong, I admonished my daughter for her use of the word fag...and I added that it did not matter who or what he was, but Clare was a nice guy I had enjoyed meeting. Her "you a fag, too?" surprised and angered me. Although I had never thought of striking her, I raised my hand to do just that...a slap across her pretty face was, I felt, warranted given what she had said. I did not, however, but demanded that she give me her car keys. "I cannot believe T... referred to his father as a fag, as well. It seemed to me that they have a good relationship. For your edification, I do not think I am gay, but you never know, I guess, until you try something like liking another guy too well. I had never thought about that until I met Clare and now I cannot get him out of my mind." My son, I imagined, flashed back onto the earlier scene in my bedroom and said he had more important things to do than to worry about his sister's language and whether his dad was gay. My "wait just a minute to him" was met with a wave and he was out the door of the kitchen and, I heard, out the front door a few seconds later. My daughter stood across from me. She was bristling, and I was feeling the same. I walked to the telephone and dialed Clare's number. It was obvious that she and I were not talking to the other. The voice mail answered and warned me to leave a message at the beep. When I heard that, I said that my daughter had informed me that "you" (Clare) are gay and that there had apparently been mention to his son I was a target for his bed. I watched my daughter as I continued with "and I am interested in what that might have to offer." After I hung up the receiver, I questioned my daughter "does that make me a fag?" Her look at me was the worst I could imagine. Her response was to lower her head and avert her eyes from mine. "Daddy, he will likely kill T... for that. I am ashamed of myself. T... did not call his dad a fag or make any bones about his dad's comment about you. He even said that you appeared to be his dad's type and would not mind if you were a couple with dating kids between them. T... likes you, I am in love with him and that stupid brother of mine told me had the hots for T...and did nothing about it because he thinks so much about me." "Your brother?" "Now two dead bodies, mine and T...'s." We laughed together at that. She said her brother never thought about coming out to me for fear that I would hate and probably disown him, but their closeness and her (heretofore) acceptance of everyone for who and not what they were had made it easy for him to share his feelings about "guys" with her. "I am sorry I said fag. I like T...'s dad. When T... told me he was gay and identified the guy we had seen coming out of the house, I had said that my dad would die if he knew. I was more than a little taken aback with your liking the guy enough to want to spend more time with him." "Dear one," I said, moving across the kitchen to hold her, "please find your brother and tell him I am here for him. Tell him to come and talk with me...it might be a help." Clare and I met that evening with our sons and my daughter for dinner. Clare told me that he had spoken with my son about his "feelings" and that he had encouraged him to come to me. My son said little, but indicated this was true. The kids later took off on their own. I accompanied Clare back to his home. I felt more relaxed than I thought I had ever felt. Clare was very gentle. He admitted his statement to T.... about wanting to bed me. I went on about my attraction to him until he told me to "shut up" and started kissing my lips. I found that Clare was more of a man than I had ever met. It was not only his passion or strong, hairy body that I felt that in, but in the way that he had pleasured me. He was a strength that I could only gain from, and I knew that what he gave me made me more of a man (and, yes, even parent) than I imagined possible. We spoke of many things and experienced together more. He was gentle and introduced me to the sucking and fucking in ways I had never thought possible. I took his 6" cock both orally and anally and enjoyed orgasm after orgasm being sucked and fucked by him. Holding him all that night was more than I could have ever dreamed was so 'nice.' My daughter and T... married after they completed college. My son became involved with an older man, moved with him to San Francisco and together they formed a company that continues successfully. I slept the one time with Clare. We found that we were better friends than lovers and never went beyond that first night. I did meet another man through my association with Clare and the two of us have maintained a monogamous relationship for the past seven years.