Gay Erotic Stories

The story so far: I was forty five, divorced and alone. Love was a dream I had passed through. When I met Jessie, I was just glad to find a friend. He was a good looking amber eyed and slender construction worker, from Atlanta, stranded and broke in Birmingham. I met him when I cruised the streets for a new yardman. I had to fire Robert, the last one, because he stole too much to forgive, again. Jessie was special, I knew it. As I drove downtown to pick him up that morning, I felt like I was leaving reality behind. He was there on time. Our story begins: My stomach was complaining about all that coffee and no food, so we stopped for take out sausage and biscuits. He started in as soon as we turned in the drive, “Wow, you got a big old house! You live here all by yourself? Man...and you really do have a big yard!” It’s an old fifties house in the suburbs, built back when two acre lots were common and large porches were the order of the day. Dad had closed in all the porches for our large family and because he liked to build stuff. No doubt he would have closed in the garage if he had lived long enough. But now I was kind of lost in all the rooms, rattled around like a ghost in the warren of turns and cubbyholes. Jessie wanted to see it all. We dropped the sandwiches on the table and I led him around the house and he raved on the white and damask living room, sliding his fingers down the carving of the tall clock, opening the glass doors of the secretary to examine the little porcelain figures inside. “Have you read all these?” he indicated the overflowing bookcase stacked well to the ceiling with the ones I can’t give away. “Yes, these and many more, Jesse. I love to read”, and I watched his face. He was looking at me, now, not the rooms and his hand came up to caress the side of my face in the exact touch I had imagined with my hand on his cheek. “Show me your paintings”, and his voice was guttural with emotion. . “They’re right here, and here..” I pointed around the room at the pictures hung on the walls, the family portraits and landscapes and roses. “Oh, I thought.. you painted all these? These don’t look like somebody painted them..”, he laughed, “I’ll just sound dumb... but it looks like magic to me. I don’t see how ... Can I watch you some time? Watch you paint something?” I assured him he could but he kept glancing my way with less ease than he had before, checking my reaction to everything he said. I showed him the big guest room and he smiled, “Looks like you expecting company!” But he didn’t seem particularly interested and my stomach was reminding me of the breakfast on the table so I rushed through the rest of the tour and found myself at the end of the hall and the door of my bedroom, no need to flip on the light switch, sunlight was streaming in the windows and there wasn’t much to see, the narrow plain bed and the bare chest of drawers... no decorations but the blue and green bottles along both window ledges, “And I sleep back here, I like a small bed so I don’t feel so alone.” I made an apologetic laugh and turned to go but Jesse blocked the hall behind me. He was still looking into the bare bedroom, “Looks big enough to me.” Then his eyes dropped to mine in that open invitation and his brows asked their ironic question and I flushed but brushed aside the thoughts that suddenly crowded in my mind and when I reached up my hands to grasp his shoulders, my only impulse was to turn him about and push him toward the kitchen but his hands came up in the same instant and slid up from my waist to cup the sides of my chest in a touch so light I caught my breath and the round contours of his shoulders filled my palms with tender warmth. I honestly can’t say who drew to whom but faces filled hollows of necks and chest touched to chest and arms encircled and squeezed and muscles tensed and breath was drawn deeply between tightly clenched teeth and a shudder was shared by two bodies, passed back and forth as an electric charge, jarring me with strong convulsive sobs and leaving my legs weak and shaking. Jesse made little growling sounds near my ear that brought fresh shivers to my neck and the rush of blood surging through my body was enervating and hot to my fingertips. The relaxation came slow as a dissolving storm and in the convention of men experienced with loving men we each brought our lips near and paused to see if the other would turn away. Our eyes locked in that almost challenge or dare and neither backed down. No room left for coyness or play, mouths devoured mouths in a ritual far past a brushing of lips. Boundaries of self give way at the openings into the interior, and by that invasion deny the isolation of a single soul inside a sealed container. Soul reaches out to merge with soul on warm wet extensions into the deepest cavities and aloneness is only a memory of a lie, such is the power of an opening freely given and gladly taken. Clothes drifted down as autumn leaves, useless things discarded carelessly, and I pulled toward the bed as he pushed his heated passion before him tight against my thigh. With the back of my calves against the edge of the mattress I tried to get my jeans down over my hips but Jesse was clutching fast to my dick through the smooth denim. I sat on the bed and leaned back on my elbows to watch him strip off the last of his clothes, a single sock, then he knelt naked between my legs and used his face and chin to massage the tops and insides of my thighs biting everywhere with his ravenous mouth, hands encircling my waist till his face was pressed hard into my lap and I imagined the cut of my brass zipper against his soft cheek, his tongue lapped at my navel and he pulled the jeans slowly past my hips as I lifted off the bed to help him, pressing my groin tighter against his face and his mouth found my dick and enclosed it in wet warmth while he worked the jeans over my feet and peeled off my socks. I drew him up to me and we lay tight together and drew the old quilt around us and found a quiet lull in the tide of building momentum. Lost in that very moment without need of a past or future we floated in sensation and fluid emotion without words or sounds he watched me watching the pulse in his throat and watched his fingers slide down my neck and behind my shoulders and his eyes found mine and that open chasm of his stare was a promise fulfilled, I drifted inside, past the boundaries, and touched the soul with mine. He began to draw up his knees and I positioned myself over him... when I would have reached down to guide my entry he took my hands in his and brought them up to cup his face, he held them there as he began a rocking, lovemaking movement without the joining and I moved with him, found his rhythm and watched the slack mask of ecstasy slip over his face like a brightly colored shadow cast by the bottles on the window sill. I found his pleasure in the whole body movement quite separate from the genital friction I was used to, this was more, this was wider, and when I was exploring this new sensation he reached down and guided me to the threshold of his body and I entered in with a gasp at the hot clutching tunnel to his interior. Two, three short strokes to spread my dripping lubricant and his saliva and sweat and then I pushed into the depths of him as he drew his legs up tighter and twisted his face in contortions of anguish and pitched need. The sudden arc and flex of his back into a tight contraction told me he had reached release and I looked down between our sweating bellies to see his outpouring of white spurting proof of pleasure spent and nerves over stimulated... I locked into the frozen inflexible pose with him and in the stillness my own quick pulses of release jerked their shivers as a quivering small animal in death throes and I slowly melted onto his chest as his legs slipped down into relaxed splayed comfort. Pent air seeped out of us as a leaking tire and we settled into a single lump of soft flesh, tenderized meat, well pounded. Each deep breath he took I took surged through sensitive lungs as a ripple of music... the taste of his neck against my open mouth was as ripened fruit, dried in the sun. My palms found his matching palms and fingers laced and squeezed a shared blessing and gratitude between them. A grip that was reluctant to fade as we stirred to squirm into a relaxed and unstrained embrace on our sides, facing. He edged lower until his head lay in the hollow of my shoulder. I blew a stream of air across the tiny beads of sweat that coated his forehead and seeped into his hairline, he murmured his pleasure in little tiger cub growls. And we drifted, plastered together in our wet stickiness and musk and the scent of his cologne of oranges and lemons and the flickering shadows of green and blue from the bottles in sunlight, we floated in living dream of kaleidoscopic impressions in the ambient silence of the daytime dust mites sparkling on the air above the narrow bed still soaked with my night time visions that were only black and gray silhouettes of this stunning and living actuality. I didn’t know I was sleeping until Jessie woke me with teasing little teeth bites at my nipple, grating rasps of good pain spread across my chest from his beard stubbled chin and I was lightheaded from low blood sugar, my stomach growled it’s protest..., “Hey, ya! Stop it! I got to take a leak and I’m starving.” “Hey, I got your sausage, man!” He was an imp, a woodland Pan, no human man. I leaned down to kiss his dimple and whispered in his golden snail shell ear, “I love you, Jessie .” And the imp was gone, a sudden man sat up as I stood beside the bed, he clasped me round the waist and pulled my loins against his chest and my belly to his cheek. “Tell me again”, he spoke in a flat voice, curiously devoid of expression. “I love you, Jessie... you must know that.” I stroked his hair and he squeezed tighter then released me and fell back on the bed with the imp’s face back in place. “ I don’t wanna get up, will you bring a towel when you come back?” “Sure.” I went about the things I had to do but kept doing a replay of that little short scene. I wondered if it was real or just a well practiced bit. Maybe just a little too touching? I washed up and took a wet cloth with the towels and cold orange juice and the now cold biscuits. We gobbled it down and didn’t spill too much of the juice and I pulled away all but the bottom sheet of the bed. We took turns with the washcloth, bathing each other and rubbing with the rough towel till we were wrestling around and struggling for possession of the wet cloth. At one point we were both standing on the bed and falling against the wall, setting the bottles to tinkling, and we collapsed in whoops of laughter and coughs. We smoked and talked and occasionally kissed, light tributes to joy. I got the portable radio from the closet shelf and we put it on the floor and found some slow, quiet music. The sun had climbed above the eaves and the room was darker now, shadowed and lit in a strange cool mood as the sunlight reflected off the bright blue painted floor and up the white walls to the ceiling. A dog barked in a neighbor’s yard and a truck struggled up the road. The external noises making us feel even more secluded. Conversation lagged and I would have drifted toward sleep, again, but Jessie began a massage of my shoulders and arms. He straddled me, on his knees, and let his heavy lax penis slide over mine as he carefully touched and explored all the skin he could reach, then lay on top of me and worked his hands then his arms under my shoulders and began digging into my back with his fingertips. I was already feeling the result of his warming excitement when he told me to turn over so he could rub my back “What are you going to rub my back with?”, I grinned up at him. “ I think I would rather rub Your back!” And with only mock resistance I turned him over and straddled him in turn. The high, tightly curved twin mounds of his ass were unbelievably beautiful, they each tapered off to low ridges that pointed outward and made a wide flat cleft near the top but swelled to opulent fullness at the bottom where he held then so tightly clenched together there was a straight thin line between them. I did rub his back, in hard deep strokes that lifted his shoulders and made him arch his neck back. The knobbed ridge of his spine was set deeply in a trench between thick muscles and I dug my fists into the soft flesh and bore it down under the press of my shoulders He began to squirm and croon beneath my body. He put both his hands behind his back and indicated the region of his kidneys, rubbing at the flesh himself. I took both his wrists in one hand and held them firmly as I started to work my pelvis against his ripe ass. “No, no. .I don’t like it that way.” He struggled to loose his hands and turn over, I only held him down a minute then let him flip over beneath me and he was rampant with excitement, his face was blurred with traces of flush at his cheeks and he grabbed onto our dicks and pressed them together in one grip, pumping up toward me. I wanted that, I hungered for that abandon and unleashed control, fell atop him and gathered his head in my arms to taste his face, lick at the small tears leaking from his tight shut eyes, pin my mouth to his and feed his hunger with lips and tongue, his rocking pumping movement was going on and on driving his belly hard against mine and trapping his fist and our hard dicks between until he was begging for release, pulling at his lower lip and straining at his fist. I shoved his hand roughly aside and rolled off him climbed back on the bed lower down, between his legs and took his pulsing dick in delicate fingertips and very gently slid the satin skin up and down the shaft in long slow strokes. His breathing lost it’s urgency and he gentled into the pleasure and his hips slowed their pounding thrust, “sssh, sssh... relax”... still his eyes were tightly shut in concentrated effort, “Watch, Jessie, watch this.” I leaned down and took him in my lips, wetting the swollen flesh with copious saliva and spreading it down the shaft like salve, slowly engulfing more of him into my mouth and throat, building a slow and gentle rhythm. “Aaaah”, I heard him sigh, and he let the tense muscles go loose and soft and I clasped his balls into my palm and tugged on the sac with care, pressing my knuckles against the cleft below and he began a faster breathing and the pelvis muscles came back to life and pushed up, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.. “ on each outbound breath and the tremors started below my fist and traveled up the shaft, he paused at the top of a pelvic thrust and I took my mouth away just in time for the high white spurts to fountain out in, two, three, .four blasts of pearls with thin streamers cascading across his belly and down his side. We moved easily back into our favorite position, now, his head on my shoulder and our legs intertwined. “Do I love you?” He grinned up at me, “But I loved you first!” “You did not. I loved You first!” He struggled up till he was on his elbows looking down at me, “I loved you that first day, when I saw you. I just knew it. Sometimes I just know stuff. Knew I could make you love me, too.” “Well, maybe you first but me best, how’s that?” He cocked his head to one side and seemed to give it serious thought, “If you need to think that, it’s okay with me... Do you think that?” The imp was back, with dimples. I pulled him to me, feeling kind of silly talking this way. Fear could be dissipated by talking about it, and anxiety... maybe love was the same way But I just didn’t like saying this stuff, even in play. I just wanted the good feelings to go on and on, didn’t want words and ideas to get in the way. “You just getting cocky ‘cause you got two nuts in one day. Think you’re something, don’t cha?” “Two? That was my third today, if you’re counting!” “ Oh, yeah? you must have got an early start, when was the first one, before I picked you up?” “Nope!” He snuggled closer, “It was when you kissed me in the hall.” “I didn’t kiss you in the hall, you kissed me.” “Well, somebody sure kissed me back ‘cause I dropped a load in my shorts!” “You didn’t do it.” “I did, too” “Okay.” And I was quiet. I think he did. That massive quake that shook me so hard, left me weak in the knees. That was almost an orgasm for me. He’s younger. But to get a nut from a kiss? That’s pretty damn intense! Yeah, I knew that the first time I saw him, knew everything about him would be intense, powerful, wonderful...but still. Damn. How could I inspire such emotion? Me? That’s a pretty intense thought, right there! Maybe he’s just a hot guy, easily turned on? Even now he was holding my dick and squeezing it gently... he just can’t get enough, can he? But I’m responding. I’m getting hard, again. His hunger is whetting my appetite. The area around my lips was already tender from his beard stubble, and I knew his lips were growing tender, too. They were puffy and fuller. I let just the tip of my tongue slide across his lower lip and he sucked it inside his mouth and ground our faces to burning, stinging heat. Like sandpaper on rose petals our chins gnawed at throat and shoulders and again I was chewing on his swollen lips and my legs were pinning him to me and my hands were seeking the warm cleft of his ass, cupping the round buttocks and squeezing the flesh in iron grip. With one ass cheek gripped firmly I worked it in pulsing rhythm, pulling the flesh up and then down adding force as he rocked his body against me, pain was coming so close to pleasure it was hard to know the difference, his teeth on my shoulder sent shudders down my spine as surely as a feather touch would at another time, and the hard pinch of his knuckles on my nipple was driving a spasm in my groin. In one quick flip I had him face down again and pinned with my body and I got one of his arms behind him and pressed down on the other shoulder, his hips lifted and legs spread for my insertion and I plunged in with one deep thrust that burned the skin along the bottom of my dick and brought a choked back scream from him, all sensation became pleasure and bone deep and pain was easy. Sweat streamed off our bodies and ran in rivulets down my back and it pooled into quarter sized circles along the deep crevasse of his spine. With head buried in soaked pillow, he offered up his other wrist and I took it and locked both his arms high up his shiny back, his moans were growling out with every hard thrust, now, grunts of , “Yeah “ were barely discernible in his growl. I held both wrists in one grip and freed the other hand to slap loud hard reports along his flank, then mine, sending icy hot waves racing through us, and his growls became a keening that floated up the scale and rang thin and almost silent, a wet finger on crystal wine glass that shattered into rasping sobs as he sank into quivering spasms, and I let my held back response lose to spurt triumph into his submission I lay on his back and bit gently at the flesh that wrinkled up along the back of his neck. His arms, released, lay flaccid and deadened at his sides. Not four or five times in my life had that monster been released, it always shook me to the core. I reached the towel and lightly patted the sweat from his eyes and along his neck, slipped off him and down on my knees to the side of the bed while I toweled his body dry. He lay inert with eyes closed. I lit a cigarette and pressed it to his lips. He took some smoke and let it drift out his nose. I brought him the jug of orange juice and a clean warm wet cloth. He stirred enough to raise his head and cross his forearms under his cheek, then his eyes fluttered open at last. “Is this Heaven? ‘Cause I know I died!” His smile was drunken and crooked. The tension slowly eased out of me and I sank back to the floor by the bed. I couldn’t say I was sorry, he would know it for a lie. He reached out a hand and tugged at my hair, “Come on back by me, I’m cold.” I pulled the quilt up with me and spread it over us as he curled back into my shoulder. He circled my chest with his arms and I held him as a treasure to protect. He slept. News headlines came on the radio, how could it be noon? Time had shifted gears somewhere in the morning. I took careful stock of my body, my pulse was slowing and the old familiar knot of anxiety was missing from my diaphragm. Every muscle was stretched and strained and relaxed. My skin was one blooming expanse of tingling, irritated flesh, sensitive to the touch of quilt and Jesse’s arms. My lungs had that tickle that meant a deep breath would set off a spate of uncontrollable coughs. Altogether a great feeling, like the aftermath of a good run, a couple of miles of steady sprint. My hair was drying and cool. This is what it’s all about, this sharing of the best life can be. What would it be worth to me to have this available anytime? I was already thinking of him as part of this room, this house. Could barely imagine life before him. All the years of emptiness were just a learning phase, learning to appreciate this when it comes along. I had been wanting a truck. Jesse could drive the car, or maybe he would rather have the truck? I’ll ask him when he wakes. Talledega is about halfway between Birmingham and Atlanta, an hour’s drive either way. We could find a place there. A simple old farmhouse, maybe a barn for a studio? A shiver of goose flesh crept up my back... don’t even think about what comes later, after we break up. Ten years difference in age? How does that affect out stats? Relationships between men have an average shelf life of, what? a year? two? Wish for five on the outside? So I’ll be 50, best case scenario... that’s enough. Five years with him would be a better deal than twenty without him. That thought was comforting, don’t even ask forever, just five years. Was that too much? And I slept, drifting in that half fantasy, half real world of possibilities and hope and the joy of just a glimpse of Eden. When I woke, he was crawling over me, trying to reach my watch on the floor, “What time is it?” His voice was thick with sleep, “ I got a job interview at two.” I was leaden and dulled, could hardly move, “Skip it, just go back to sleep... “ “Man, I would love to...”, but he was getting up and picking up clothes. He stumbled into the bathroom and I heard the shower running. I made myself move, sat on the bedside and felt the good ache, the soreness beginning. It was with abject reluctance that I drug myself up and went to the chest for clean underwear and socks, I pulled out a set for him, too. Steam was roiling near the ceiling, coming over the shower curtain rod in a great flowing cloud. I looked down at his clothes in their loose heap... wondering if, indeed, his drawers were stained by an orgasm pushed out by my kiss. The logo “Polo” marched around the waistband. Polo seemed a strange excess for an out of work construction hand, but these were new. I could read the label inside his pants, too. Thinking this was the first pair of Versache’s to lay on my bathroom floor. I had taken his shirt for a thick cotton but now the light was creeping into the weave along the collar and I recognized raw silk. Something about the clashing set of values grated at me, harshly. But I remembered how delighted Robert had been with my cast off Calvin Klein black jeans when they grinned my pretentious back at me. Wondered at the past lover who had tossed him silk refuse. Was it to please him? Or to rid a closet of past seasons? I dropped my BVD’s on top and climbed into the shower with him. The soap and hot water were like a swarm of bees stinging in a thousand spots, and sluicing away a layer of yesterdays. Aching arms wrapped him in new and clean demands. “Don’t go, Baby. stay with me. This is your home, now. You know that. You can take a few days off, at least until we get you something to drive to work. Can you drive a straight stick?” Wet skin was a special delight to my hands. I crooned to him. “I love you so much, Jessie. God, I’m so happy! I never believed I would find someone like you.” Deep red teeth marks on his neck assailed me, defenseless. He wouldn’t say anything, just kept holding me. Head down, face hidden. “ My kids are cool, Jess, you’ll be crazy about them, and remember when you were telling me how you like dogs? What kind of dog you want, baby? Jeeze, I can’t wait to paint you. I gotta see it to believe it!” He was kissing my chest, now, bending and then easing down to his knees, sliding through my hands and arms, down to my belly, palms on my thighs. His face tilted up to me and it was that open eyed stare, no smile, the expression of tabula blanc, waiting. The thought of another erection was alien, repulsive. I watched it happen in dismayed awe. A thing separate from me and my heart, a rebellious colony turning on the empire. He pushed my hands from his shoulders and worshipped at the altar of some god foreign to my mood, but responsive to his prayers. I ddn’t want another orgasm, willed it not to come, dreaded the exhausted suffocation it would bring and felt it rising from my hamstrings and strained calves, pushing upwards against the sore thighs and gripping my prostate with cruel vengeance. Jesse wouldn’t release me when I signaled my coming, he suckled closer and consumed whatever thin outpourings my body had left. Conqueror vanquished, he left me alone in the shower, got out and dressed. He left my BVDs on the counter of the vanity, both pairs. When I pulled over to the curb, I was still trying to get him to let me wait, or come back for him later. He had a strange way of arguing, he made no answer at all, never once tried to put forth reason or retort beyond that expressionless face that accepted my tidal wash of laments as a stone shelf to the pounding surf. He had already opened the door as he turned back towards me with the even smile back in place, “ My daughter needs fifty dollars this week for her graduation stuff, and I don’t get paid till Friday, do you think..?” He left the line open... it took me a second to fall in. My gaze went from dimple to dimple, to eye to eye... searching for the falseness, the sneer. My throat went cold and I knew it was locking up on me even as I tried to form the verbal slap I needed to deliver. I drew out my billfold and searched through for the bills, he was worth it, I kept thinking, he was worth it. I pulled out two twenties and went on flipping bills, looking for the ten that must be there. Only when the tear fell on back of my hand did I realize I was crying. I jerked out another twenty and gave up on the quest for the ten. “Here,” I held the green payment out to him, “ You was wo...wo..wo “ The stutter always came with tense moments, with strong emotion, I flushed deeply with embarrassment but I had to tell him, “You was wo.. wo...wo...wo”. Choking, that’s what I always called it, like a horse that can’t make it over the jump, stumbling at the last minute, “wo..wo...wo”, it could be endless if I didn’t get it out, self defeating if I gave up. Start again, “You was wo...wo”, at least he didn’t laugh as many others did, there was a kind of giggle I always expected, folks think you’re being funny, “wo...wo...wo”. He didn’t even put out his hand for the money, just kept looking at me with that open stare, waiting. I would not wipe the tears away, I would not stop trying. I laid the money on his leg. “Here, you was wo, worth it.” He picked it up and got out of the car, leaned back down to look at me again, still no discernible expression, “I’ll call you Thursday.” He closed the door but kept standing there, watching me watching him. I let it go. One racking sob and a deep breath. I slipped it down into gear and pulled away from the curb, into the stream of traffic. I didn’t look back. ........................................................................ comments to donnie469@aol.com