Gay Erotic Stories

After all, he was the varsity quarterback at our high school. At 18, Joey Collucci was an Italian god on campus…dark wavy hair and gorgeous dark eyebrows; the perfect Roman nose. Like six two and with this incredibly defined chest. From what I had seen in the locker room last week, he had some thin dark chest hair. From the back, he had a perfect ass, though I’d had only a fleeting glance as he walked away from me and yanked his towel away.

Was that single act a tease? Why did he want to teach me football? It wasn’t like I was ever going to make the team or anything. They had been practicing for weeks over the summer and the first game was this Friday night. But that’s what Joey offered me. Teach me football. Me! Football!

For this great privilege of learning the game from probably the most popular guy in our school—the guy who everyone wanted to have—all I had to do was help him with his history paper.

Done.

I was sort of pretty good at history. Actually I was pretty good at most subjects in school. Now 18 myself, a senior, I had no shot at an athletic career like Joey Collucci, but I was pretty strong in the classroom and would probably get into a good college. Joey, on the other hand, would be left to accept one of the many football scholarships he was bound to get. That is, if… If I could get him through history with a passing grade.

When we met in the shower stalls of the locker room last week, I was coming off of a run around the track. He was the last one left after practice. At first, he thought I was somebody else. When he came over to my shower stall to check, I was so surprised that I had gotten a little wood watching him stand there with his towel around his perfect waist, his cut abs glistening in the lights. Somehow we got to talking. My dick having a mind of its own--much to my great embarrassment. It turns out that he was writing his WW1 history paper on the atomic bomb at Hiroshima. Setting him straight, we both laughed and he told me that he recognized me from some earlier class we had taken together and would really appreciate it if I could help him out.

Standing way off to the side of the field, I was a bit self-conscious that I was the only kid not in a football uniform. I sat down and pulled a textbook out of my back pack and pretended to read.

At the end of practice, I felt a little like a stalker waiting around for Joey to finish talking to his teammates. I decided to leave for the locker room and maybe catch him before he went in.

After what seemed like ages, everyone seemed to have gone inside but there was still no sign of Joey. It was coming on 6:00 and if I didn’t get on my bike and get home soon, it would start to get dark. A little sad, I put my back pack over both shoulders and began to walk across campus to where my bike was locked up.

Riding home, I thought of what a crazy week this had been. Seven days ago, I had not yet had my encounter with Joey in the locker room. We had not struck our deal about history class help in exchange for sports lessons. Before last week, Joey had not seen me with a partial erection and I had not been applauded in the library bathroom the afternoon I jerked off. Until this past weekend, I had not run into my new friend Andy from New York. Prior to this mad weekend, I had not had Andy grab my dick through the blankets after I woke up in Will’s bedroom. I had not had Andy catch me in the shower with a hard-on, and I had not been accosted by Andy in the changing room at JC Penney.

I had not managed to lose my virginity to Andy.

I had not managed to even see Joey’s pecker. But this was sure a blast. In due time, I guess, in due time. Four blocks from school, I smiled to myself. Not sure yet about this whole gay thing. I was certainly happy with the way life was developing.

Behind me, a car honked its horn and I eased closer to the curb. The car passed me and slowed down. He pulled over about 100 feet in front of me. I slowed down too. What was this guy doing?

As I coasted up to the back of the car, the driver side door opened and Joey Collucci stepped out; still in his football uniform.

Jumping off my bike, I was so excited to see him, I practically hugged him. But I stopped myself just in time and instead I said, “Hey Joey, how’s it going?”

“TJ, what happened to you?”

I didn’t have a ready excuse to explain not showing up for our tutor appointment last week.

If I told him the truth, that I had been totally freaked out when somebody walked in on me beating my meat in the bathroom, that I had panicked when whoever it was had obviously known all along exactly what I was doing because he started clapping and whistling once I was done, that I had hustled home and forgotten completely that I was supposed to meet the high school starting quarterback at the flag pole for a one-on-one session. Nope. I had absolutely nothing to say.

“Um.” I stammered.

“Why’d you split so fast after practice today?”

“Um, I wasn’t at… I mean… I didn’t really… um… how did you know I was at practice?” Why wasn’t he asking me about not showing up for tutoring last week?

“I saw you sitting over there on the sideline today; it seemed like you were pretty absorbed in some book or something.”

I blushed, embarrassed. I tipped my head toward the back pack on my shoulder. “Yeah, right. Chemistry quiz this week.”

“Whoa, dude. Chemistry? Sounds hard.” He smiled with a great set of perfect pearly whites. Jesus Christ, did everyone have to have such gorgeous teeth?

I thought: you have no idea. But I said, “It’s not too bad once you get the hang of it.”

“So you still haven’t answered my question. Were you waiting for me? Why’d you leave the field so quickly?”

“Well, actually, I wasn’t really.” I was no good at lying. “Um, the truth is. Well. Yeah, I was waiting for you. I wanted to apologize for not showing up last week.”

“What? Oh, that. No biggie. I figured something must have come up.”

These double entendres were killing me.

“Um, yeah. So, listen, I’m really sorry I didn’t get to help you with your paper for history.”

“You still can,” he said.

“You mean you’re not done yet? Weren’t they due in class today?” Mine was and I had finished it more than a week ago.

“Teach gave me an extra few days. I told him I was working with you and that we hadn’t had a chance to finish it yet.” This bit of news was surprising on several levels.

“You told the teacher that I was helping you with it and he said that was okay?”

Joey smiled from ear to ear. “I’m like the starting quarterback, sporto. They tend to cut me some slack.”

“Oh, good,” I said. “Well then, when do you want to…?”

“How about tonight? What kind of plans do you have?”

I thought for a moment. If I’d had an appointment with the Queen of England, I’d have cancelled to spend a few hours working closely with Joey Collucci.

“I’m good, I guess.” I looked down at his uniform, he followed my gaze. The number ‘11’ was plastered heavily across his perfectly toned chest.

What was it about the number 11?

“Yeah, I guess I should probably change. I usually get a massage after practice from this dude, and then I shower. I didn’t get the massage today though so I could try to catch up with you.”

“You tried to catch up with me?” I must have had this look of complete surprise on my face. Joey Collucci gave me a barehanded smack on the shoulder. The gentle tap almost knocked me off my bike.

“You rode a little faster than I thought. So now that I’m here, what’ll you say? Let’s go do it. Let’s go work on my history paper. I promise. No Hiroshima.”

“Right, no Hiroshima. That’s the wrong war…, like I told you last week. Do you even have a topic?”

Joey smiled and I knew at once he didn’t. This was going to take a bit more work than I originally thought.

“And what about your uniform?”

“Oh, I’ve got some clothes in the car. No big deal.”

“But you missed your massage.”

“Ah, but maybe I didn’t. That can be our trade for this first session. You didn’t seem too interested in learning about football anyway.”

“Wait a minute, if I’m helping you with a massage… And, I’m helping you with your history paper, what exactly is it that I’m getting in this deal?”

Ignoring my question, Joey turned away and grabbed the keys from the ignition of his car. He had not answered me.

Opening the trunk, I threw my bike in and Joey carefully used a bungee cord to hold the lid down. Seated beside him as we made our way back to my house along my usual bike route, I inhaled deeply. Joey smelled like grass and dirt and sweat. I loved it. Where Andy had just smelled like soap when my face had gotten close enough to his over the weekend, Joey just smelled like a guy.

Mmm.

Joey parked in front of my house and he helped me lift my bike out of the car. What was a supreme effort for me to dead lift the metal frame of my bike was nothing for this stud quarterback.

Inside I introduced Joey to my mom. She was seated at the kitchen table talking on the phone and barely looked up. It wasn’t unusual for me to get home so late since I often stayed to study in the library and they completely trusted me.

I yelled from the stairs, “I’m gonna be helping Joey with a history paper so we won’t be down for a while,”

I led Number 11 into my bedroom…the same bedroom where Andy and I had measured my hard dick over the weekend. I insisted that it was eight and one third inches and Andy measured it at only eight and a quarter so I grabbed the ruler away and proved it to him, stretching my erection as far as it would go. I won the argument but—much to my frustration—we had not gone any farther than that. Andy wouldn’t let me measure his dick. Actually, I had never even seen Andy’s dick. I was a nut case inside. But, first things first, I guess. We later went for a run.

Entering my bedroom behind me, Joey Collucci followed me like an obedient puppy. Glancing across the room, I was horrified that my bed was unmade and I rushed over to straighten the covers before he thought I was a slob or something.

Andy whistled and a shiver passed through from head to toe. Where had I heard that before?

“Gnarly poster, TJ,” Joey said pointing up to Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta decked out in black leather on my ceiling. Why the fuck hadn’t I taken that damn thing down yet?

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t look at it all right? Just pretend it’s not there.”

Joey sat down on the floor, his back leaning against my bed. “I don’t know sporto. I might get a woody thinking about Olivia in that dress.”

“Give me a break. Just ignore it,” I insisted. I sat down in the middle of the floor facing Joey. Unzipping my back pack, I took out a textbook that might be of help.

“So, should we get started?” I asked.

“Um, yeah, but not with my paper,” he said. He got up and went over and closed my bedroom door. “Let’s do the paper later. I need that massage while my muscles are still warm.”

“Okay. Massage now, paper later.”

Joey took off his shirt. I felt myself staring at his perfectly chiseled chest and the thin strands of dark hair. It took all my effort to move my eyes up to his face.

“Do you have, like, any oil or something?”

“Oil?”

“You know, massage oil; some kind of lotion.”

I laughed. “Here wait, I’ll ask my mom; just a minute.”

He laughed too.

“I think my mom’s got some cream or something that she gives me if I get sunburned. Hold on, I’ll get it.” I walked across the room and went out into the hallway. I yelled down the stairs, “Mom?”

She didn’t answer me, she was probably still yakking on the phone. I went into my parents’ bathroom and rummaged around under the sink until I found what I was looking for. It was pretty old and about half-used but I figured it would do the trick. I had never given anybody a massage before.

Fortunately Joey had received many massages and was a big help.

“I lie down face down on your floor like this,” he explained, lying down face down just as he said.

“Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable on the bed? The floor’s a little hard.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I don’t want to get your bed all greasy.”

“Um…”

He laughed. “No! You know what I mean. I don’t want you to get your mom’s lotion all over your bedspread.”

“Joey, it’s not like my bed’s never had lotion in it.”

“Good to hear that.”

Joey stayed on the ground. I knelt on my knees beside his amazing torso. His head was turned away from the side I was on, and his gorgeous dark wavy hair covered the back of his neck. I wanted to stick my face in it.

“So just, you know, put a little of that cream on my back and, you know, start rubbing it in.”

I pumped a little out onto my hands and rubbed them together to warm it up. Then I moved my hands to hover about an inch over his shoulder blades. Jesus! He had muscles even there!

“T.J. you actually have to touch me with your hands. Holding them in the air doesn’t quite do the trick.”

“Shut up. I’m still getting ready.”

I was shaking. After a big sigh, I put both hands on Joey’s back; almost like I was gearing up to dip them into a pot of boiling water. For a moment I left them where I placed them, letting them get use to the sensation of the varsity quarterback’s Italian skin.

“Uh T.J.?” Joey said.

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

I started to move my hands in circles. I was sure how much pressure to use so I waited for some feedback from Joey. He was mostly silent, but occasionally he let out a little moan.

Seemed like he was happy about what I was doing sometimes, while at other times it seemed like he was in pain. After I got a little rhythm going, I started to move up to his shoulders and then down lower toward his waist. I had to add lotion a few more times as his skin absorbed it.

“How am I doing?” I asked after a few minutes.

“Fantastic. You’re a natural.”

“Really?” I was pleased by this.

After about 20 minutes, I really started to enjoy rubbing Joey’s back. I smiled to myself thinking that this deal was clearly going to work out well for me and maybe for him too.

Up to now, we had been mostly silent. Joey gave a few yelps when I pushed too hard on a spot that was a little sore and he gave some soft moans a few other times. He lifted his head and turned it toward me. His eyes were dark and beautiful and I’m sure I blushed when he looked at me. I inhaled deeply.

“So? Are you ready for step 2?”

“There’s a step 2?” I asked.

He kicked off his turf shoes with his feet, leaving on his socks. I looked at his feet--big. of course. And they smelled like a concentrated version of Joey.

Engrossed in his socks, I realized too late that he was slipping down his white football pants as well. He was wearing a jock underneath so his butt was pretty much totally exposed. He bunched his pants just below his knees and lay back down onto his stomach.

“Can you just get my thighs and glutes a little?” he asked, turning his head away from me again.

I immediately got an erection.

“Um, well sure, if you think it’s…”

“It’s fine, the massage guy at school does me all the time like this,” he explained.

“Really?” I asked, thinking about a new career option for myself.

“It’s no big deal. It’s just that I get totally tight from all the squats and stuff. This really helps.”

“Okay, then, here we go.” I lathered up my hands with some more lotion and set to work without any further delay.

The back of Joey’s legs were matted with dark hair so it was a completely different feeling for me than having my hands on his smooth, muscled back. I loved the feeling of hair and skin combined on my palms. I smiled to myself at how my life had changed in the past week or so since I’d kind of showered with Joey in the locker room. I even let my hands wander up higher onto his ass. The firm, smooth muscles contrasted with the slightly hairy section in the crack.

Joey laughed out loud.

“What’s funny?”

He laughed again and bumped up his butt in the air.

“Hey, that really tickles dude, take it easy.”

I looked at my hand, it had strayed to the center of the crease of his ass and the tip of my middle finger touched his little pink asshole.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize,” I was truly embarrassed. I had not meant to touch that part.

“No, it’s all right. It’s just really sensitive whenever it gets touched,” he explained.

You mean that it gets touched periodically? I decided to ignore this comment and set back to work. My hard-on was pressing a hole into my jeans and I wanted so much to just rip my own clothes off and lay down on top of the quarterback.

I massaged Joey’s thighs and butt for about 15 more minutes. The whole session had been going for a while now but my hands weren’t the least bit worn out. My mom’s lotion, on the other hand, was just about done. Oh my god! My mom! What if she came in?

Joey’s voice interrupted my temporary insanity.

“Okay, T.J. are you ready for Step 3?”

I was.

“Yup, let’s get to it.”

“Well, T.J. you give a great massage for a beginner. I might have to replace my regular guy with you.”

“Okay.” I was certainly eager to be of use.

To my disappointment, Joey rolled over and pulled his pants back up. I caught a quick glance of his dick stretching the fabric of his jock.

Could he possibly have a hard-on? Heck, why not? I certainly did.

Joey caught me looking at his jock and smiled. I looked away. After a moment, I looked back up to his face when he got the laces on his football pants tied up again.

“So what’s step 3?” I asked.

“We study T.J., we study. We can do this again another day. You did really well.”

I hid my erection from him as I unzipped my back pack and pulled out a notebook where I had some history notes. I grabbed a pen and tossed it to him.

After an extended silence, I finally managed a response.

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”