Gay Erotic Stories

THE DANCER It's the end of one of the longest days of my not yet begun career. My first musical is ready to go into production, and I've heard every kid in the Midwest who's choir teacher told them they could make it big. Most of them sound like bad imitations of either Garth or Shania, and look like their family trees haven't branched since the great flood. The female lead was cast before the first hour was over. My character just walked into the room and sang. The dancing was a little clumsy, but the voice was terrific, the hair was perfect, the bodylines were clean, and she was definitely it. The leading man is standing right in front of me. I always prefer to hire singers who can be taught to dance and act, rather than the other way around, but this is the only kid who looks anything like the character. And he can dance. He took a Britney Spears bit from one of her early videos and set it to a tune from Oklahoma. Either he thinks I don't know the difference between Agnes De Mille and the teen jack off idol, or he's too naive to know the difference himself. That's probably it. He's as fresh as they come. Turned earth on a spring morning fresh. Sigh......I'm falling hard already. I tell him to stay and read with the girl, and I let everyone else go. They read for a couple of scenes, but I can't concentrate. I keep imagining him saying those lines to me. "The rehearsal schedule was in your audition packet. I expect both of you to keep it. I'll put on the understudy before I wait for someone who doesn't care enough to show up. Spend some time tonight after you celebrate thinking about how bad you wanted this part, and how long it will be before you're offered another one. See ya Monday." God, I'm a hard-ass, but this is the only shot I've got. His name is Cody. Reminding myself that my career is more important than mounting an 18-year-old dance boy, I send the girl home, and talk with him about voice lessons. As the composer and lyricist, as well as the director of this little project, I offer my own services as his voice coach. Better to work extra hours I don't have than try to fix what some schmuck does to the kid's untrained pipes. "Can you show me how you want the ballad sung, Mr. Jacobson? Just enough so I can practice at home this weekend?" "Sure I can, Cody,” was what came out of my mouth. "Anything to keep you here even one more minute,” was what was in my head. We started with a breathing exercise to get his lungs full and the chest and stomach muscles relaxed. He hadn't put his shirt back on from the dance routine, and I tried not to tremble when I touched his ribs and stomach during the teaching. His short brown hair had trendy blonde highlights, and that turned up jug do in the front. His face was just sweet. There's no other way to put it. I sang the ballad while I looked into his dark green eyes. I gave every lyric more meaning than I'd put there when I wrote it, looking at this kid. He had me. He never took his eyes off me while I sang. He played every line, like we were doing the show. At the end, I nearly took him in my arms. "Can you try that for me, please Cody?" I asked. "No, Mr. Jacobson, I can't do that,” he answered. "It's ok, son. Your voice will develop very quickly once we start. I just wanted you to understand the emotion of the song before we started hammering mechanics, that's all. Just try the first line." "I can sing some, and I know I can learn to sing better. But I can't do what you just did." "I don't understand, Cody." "You sang like you were in love. I almost felt like you were in love with ME when you sang just now. I’ve never had those feelings. I don't think I can fake them now that I've seen you do it so perfectly." Turning around, so he wouldn't see the effort it took to keep my face calm when I took my next breath, I asked him, "Wasn't there ever a girl in your life, Cody? You're too handsome a kid never to have had a crush." "I've had crushes, I just.........they weren't........oh, never mind.....you'd better find someone else to do this." Panicking over my show and the likelihood of finding another kid like this to play the part, and over the likelihood of not getting to watch him dance ever again, I caught his shoulder as he turned away. "What's wrong?" I asked, not taking my hand from his bare skin. "I can't do this," was all he would say. "Do what?' "Tell you that I've never even spoken to someone I've had feelings for because......because I couldn't." "Why couldn't you, Cody? Were they older women?" "No" "Then why, are you that shy? It didn't show in your audition." "I've only ever wanted to talk like that to 3 people, my half-cousin, my baseball coach, and just now.....you." Tightening my grip to keep him from running away, I leaned in close to his ear from behind. "What you're feeling is ok, Cody. There's nothing wrong with you." Barely above a whisper, he said, "Yeah, there is. I'm a fag. You don't want me in your show." Stepping around his shoulder, I used one finger of my right hand to turn his angelic face up to mine, and softly, touched my lips, rough from a long day, to his. After that first gentle kiss, came a series of what I hoped were comforting ones on his cheek and eyes and forehead. Taking his face in my hands, I then kissed him fully. My lips, tongue and mouth feeding the hunger in the boy's face, his heart, his soul. I could take nothing from him, only give. My arms wrapped tightly around his slender body, I held him against my own chest and stomach. With my arms at his shoulders and waist, I leaned into him, and pulled him into me. He needed to know himself, and there was no other way. Pulling away from his sweet lips, I looked into his face, searching for something. A sign, to stop or to move on. He smiled and tilted his head all the way back exposing a mile and a half of beautiful throat above a smooth, firm chest. I dove into his neck, as my hands began an urgent exploration of his backside. Sliding easily inside his baggy jeans and boxers, I went to work on his beautiful ass cheeks with both hands. Squeezing the twin mounds of boy flesh, spreading them apart even as my tongue bathed first one nipple and then the other in my hot mouth juice. Pulling my hands out and up his back, I lowered the dancer to the stage. Without bothering with the snap, I pulled off his shoes, and tugged at the hem of his jeans. They came away easily. Laying my self, still fully clothed, across his body, now clad only in boxers and socks, I took his right ear into my mouth. He writhed beneath me as his hands sought to free my heaving chest of its cloth cage. Pausing long enough to remove my shirt, I was rocked to my core by the exquisite sensation of our chests pressed tightly together. Kissing and fondling, we rolled and moaned across the black wooden dais, lost in the place where few men find peace. Some time later, I took his virgin cock into my mouth, and almost instantly, he satisfied my special hunger with his orgasm, pleasing and disappointing me simultaneously. Smiling at the dancer, I caressed his balls with my left hand, while I sought to free my soaked manhood from my slacks and boxer briefs. Placing his hand on my hairy chest, he rolled me onto my back with a sly grin, and leaned down to watch himself fondle my dick. He frowned when I softened slightly after several minutes. "Doesn't that feel good?" he asked. "Yeah,” I said, "but I need to touch you Cody. This is about you, not me." Rolling up to his knees, he pulled my pants and underwear off of my legs. I placed my hands on his shoulders as he came near enough to reach again. He reached out the tip of his tongue, and slowly licked my cock from base to tip. Moaning softly, I tried to pull him up to me with my hands, but he was too low for my reach, and when I pulled my shoulders up to fetch him to me, he took my dick full in his virgin mouth. I fell back to the stage, grabbing his hair. I held his head for some thin handle on reality. I floated, suspended in a hazy, unimaginable place, while he bobbed over me with vigor. In no time at all, I was ready to explode. Stammering, I warned him to stop, but he sucked on. I held my orgasm off until I knew I would go insane from the strain, and by then I had no strength to pull him away. Crying out in ecstasy, I filled the dancer with my essence. Gagging slightly, he looked up at me with sad eyes. "I couldn't swallow it all," he said, "I'm really sorry." In answer, I leaned up, took his slender waist in my hands, and drew him to me. Lying out full upon the cluttered stage, the naked boy upon the naked man, we kissed until sleep took us, his beautiful head on my shoulder, our legs tangled as only new lovers do. Minutes or hours later, I woke him and took him home. The show was never performed. I ran out of money before we were ready to make any from it, and I wrote other works for other people. Before the summer ended, though, I knew every blissful part of the dancer's mind and body, and he mine. He never learned to sing, and I couldn't dance. But music was made. Sweet, beautiful, forbidden music of lost men who have nothing to hold onto but each other. Send me your thoughts by e-mail at Friar_Patrick@yahoo.com