Gay Erotic Stories

Her hair had held the glow of power as she spoke those horrendous words, "By the power of Mark, Twin of Law and by the power of Luc, Twin of Truth; You will find no rest, until the evil done today is amended and repaired. This quest, I bind you to." Then the thud of that horrible hammer slamming the ground. . . This is the third night of that nightmare. He has awakened in sweat each of these days. He was outside the nightmarish town of Nambrack. In his hasty departure, he had brought no money and no food. He was starving and cold and more than willing to do anything to be able to go back home and do an honest day’s work. Luckily, he had some skill as a carpenter, because the town inn looked to need a new roof. Hopefully, he can haggle a way to a clean room and a warm meal. Not quite: He got a nest in the stable, which is definitely cleaner than some of those rooms in there. So content for the night, over leftover half-stale bread and some porridge greasy enough to grease his pole, which he generously manhandled and rubbed in the hay. He stroked it slowly and with his free hand massaged the head. With curiosity, he lowers the hand more to his nutsack and fondles them kindly. And with a short shrug of his body, he pushes his trousers and breechcloth to his knees and spreads his legs slightly. His strokes have become faster now and he starts massaging below his balls and inches lower and lower, curious as to what a queer-gay man feels when prodded. . . O-o-o-O-O-h-H-OH! He exclaims as he rubs gently across his puckering asshole. He feels the orgasm hit him like a bolt of lightning, over and over again, and then he falls asleep. The next day, he is prodded awake by the innkeeper, a fat old man no one would have expected able to climb that ladder up here. With a start, he tries to jump to his feet only to find his legs trapped by his clothing. He had fallen asleep, exposed! His face crimson, he pulls on his clothing, hay and all and waits for the old man to yell. Instead, he gets, "The tools are in the shed next to the outhouse. Some of the shingles you will need have been delivered today the rest will arrive within the week. You had better be as good as you claim to be, or I will let the Warden have you." The warden was the equivalent of a city's nightwatchman. He had better keep his dick in his pants or he would be in real trouble. So, he began the slow process of removing the old shingles and pegging in the new ones. It was not fun, but it was work, and the dream's intensity seemed to have diminished. It wasn't until nearly sunset that he finished work, and noticed the innkeeper's son watching him from the branches of a nearby tree. He was about eighteen and more than old enough to have done this job for the old coot, but for some reason, he didn't seem to have a knack for manual labor. When the kid saw that he had been caught staring, he scrambles from the tree and heads for the stable. Curiosity getting the better of him again, he climbs down from the roof and enters the stable. The boy is nowhere to be seen. He exits through the opposite door and looks around: No one. He goes back inside and climbs the ladder to where he sleeps in the hayloft and, lo and behold, there the young man hides behind a girder. "Boy, don't be afraid, I won't harm you," he says and is forced to relive a flashback of the blonde boy he had helped beat senseless three days ago. He falls to his knees as the memories attack him, only now he is the queer they beat senseless, and he stares in horror at his own face contorted in bloodlust. He snaps out of it with the boy, now a man holding his head on his lap as the spasms slowly leave his body and he returns to the land of the living. His eyes lock with the MAN and he realizes he doesn't want to move. After what seems like forever, the lad separates himself from him and asks after shaking off the dried grass from his thighs, "My name is Silvus, what is yours?" To give him a moment to recover his thoughts, he climbs up onto his feet and turns towards the lad and says, "My name is Shane." An odd feeling has overtaken him, something he never would have expected of his gaybashing self. He was feeling attraction to this man, who was barely more than a boy. But, this is wrong. . . A brief flashback and he realizes the only true wrong he did was destroying the life of another man (if he only knew). The boy was just standing there waiting to see what he was going to do. . . What was he going to do? Luckily the boy got impatient and decided to make the decisions for him. Oh what a surprise! Never has anyone put his meaty tool in their mouth before and he was in heaven! The boy-no-definitely-man knew what he was doing as he slid his lips up and down his prick. He couldn't help but let a few grunts out. He knew perfectly well they had to keep the noise down or his father would be here in seconds. He tried to warn him when he felt his seed about to erupt from within, but he only clamped down harder and swallowed each eruption that followed. Afterwards, he just sat back and started massaging his dick, working it to orgasm. He didn't ask for reciprocation and Shane wasn't sure he could, so he moved over next to him and replaced his hand with the lad’s. He jerked it nice and slowly hoping he was doing it correctly. From the glisten of sweat on the lad’s head and the biting of his upper lip to keep himself silent, he knew it was working. Thinking of the night before, he slides his other hand over the exposed anus and starts rubbing it profusely, refusing to give up his manual task on his cock. With a grunt and several strong shudders, he feels the boy fall back and relax as the feelings pass him over. Unable to resist, Shane passes his fingers across a drop of semen and brings it to his lips. Uggh, it tasted like old potatoes with way too much salt. Silvus starts chuckling at what must have been an odd expression and then he starts chuckling with him. A thud on the floor below them and the old innkeeper is demanding, "What are you doing up there? It is past your bedtime, let the carpenter alone, he can tell you such torrid stories I can only imagine him telling you tomorrow." They chuckled a little more realizing they had gotten away with it and were just given the perfect reason to be hanging together. The whole week was a total mix of bliss and hard work. Silvus was up helping him with the work, having found a good reason to learn a trade and before long the roof was completely done. But not the work. Apparently the whole town had seen his work and wanted him to fix up a few things here and there, as well as help build a new home among other things. And to top it all off, the innkeeper had pretty much given his son to him, exclaiming that he had changed this good-for-nothing boy into a worker with a trade. Shane was being paid to APPRENTICE his newfound lover in a trade he was becoming more proficient at each day. The curse was gone, and his life was much better off than he ever could have expected.