Gay Erotic Stories

Yep, that $100 sure came in handy. Within the week, I had to replace the right front tire on the car. Against my better judgment, I’d relented and let my sister borrow my car during the afternoon. I’d been playing tennis with a friend of mine and he’d driven, so my car was at home. Mother had a hair appointment, so she needed hers. Actually, mother pretty much made things happen. Anyway, my sister managed to drive up on a sharp piece steel that stuck out from a parking restraint curb, and it managed to puncture the tire on it’s red-stripped sidewall, rendering it unsalvageable. I told you I had the sister from hell. Easy come—easy go—and there it went.

I never saw Jason again, and true to my promise, I never brought up the subject with John when I saw him subsequently. John was sort of pissed that four of his favorite candles had been used in his absence and were burned down and crooked. I almost spilled the beans when I recounted the nasty storm he’d missed. I recovered quickly, and just innocently asked who was even there to use them? John said he’d had a girlfriend of his house sitting and watering his plants, etc. and she’d must have used them. “Girlfriend?” Okay, that’s one way of puttin’ it. I was kind of curious to know if they’d ever gotten it on—but that’d be territory I didn’t want to invade.

John and I continued to have our sex sessions, but I just kept thinking he was getting a “free ride” and was getting more out of this than I was. Really, I wasn’t expecting money, but other that having an occasional coke, we never went anywhere together, no movies, no dinner, nothing outside an evening of sex at his apartment. My interests began to focus on the gay circuit again, not so much as I was looking for variety, or was on any sort of hell bent quest for new meat…but maybe just more of a realization that there were more caring people to be had…maybe even a good buddy relationship…or more. Perhaps John was tiring of me also, as within a three or four weeks, we’d see each other maybe once every 10 days or so.

I’d decided that since I was going to be heading off to college, I’d need some spending money. My parents were paying tuition, board, room, etc. and would have me on an austere budget at best. If I wanted anything better—I’d have to fend for myself. Quite by accident, even though the summer was nearly half over, I landed a job as a front desk clerk at a new large motel. The chain was new, there were over 300 rooms, and they needed bodies to run the place. The pay wasn’t too bad, but I had to work the 3-11 shift, which kind of screwed up both my days and my nights. For the most part…my evenings of running the gay circuit were nixed, with exception of my days off. However, I did develop new friends at work.

The motel bar manager, Rickie, actually became a pretty good friend. He wasn’t that bad looking, but looked like he’d had a rough life. His “girlfriend” was a skinny big tittied, blonde bimbo who’s IQ couldn’t have gone much past her age. She giggled a lot and smoked like a chimney, but Rickie doted over her always. The motel bar was called the “Tiki Bar” and had sort of a tropical island motif. Actually it wasn’t even as big as the motel pool it looked out on. Looking back, it was more tacky than “Tiki”.

When I worked the 3-11 shift, I’d get through and my shift checked out, usually about 11:30, which would put me home before midnight, which sat well with my parents. However, being a bright sole, I was asked if they could train me to fill on part time doing the “night audit”. They made it worth my while with the increase they offered, so I reluctantly accepted and my training began. This actually worked out well for my independence. Initially, I’d stay an extra two hours after my shift and start on the first portion of balancing out the two day shifts—everything sort of running the room charges. This allowed me to see Rickie and Jennifer in the bar and some of their regular customers. Jennifer had a raspy voice and thought she could sing. I’m sure Rickie just didn’t have the heart to tell her…but occasionally the customers did. Rickie was like a little bantee rooster and would immediately react by throwing the offender out of “his” bar.

There was this one salesman who was a regular and would get a special discounted rate from the management. He was tall, probably around 30ish or so, good looking and traveled for a medical supply company and was starting a new territory here. His name was Erik, and he was of Scandinavian decent. When in town, he’d be out during the day, then eat at the motel restaurant at night, then head across the lobby to the Rickie’s Tiki Bar, where he’d spend the balance of the night, eventually pouring himself out of the place a hour before closing, or sometimes he closed the place. He’d make small talk at the front desk, leaving three wake-up calls, then saunter off. He made no secret that he liked his job, but really missed being home with the wife.

One hot night, I’d had the opportunity of watching him take a dip in the motel pool before he came in for dinner. Now I was aware of his physique possibilities just from viewing how his suite fit him. This guy was built! Happy hour people in the bar noticed too—including Rickie’s Jennifer. I’m not sure what exactly happened later that night, but there was some commotion and the next thing I saw was Rickie, escorting Erik out of “his” bar. They didn’t have an argument in the lobby, but after that I didn’t see Erik frequenting the Tiki Bar any longer. I know the motel general manager heard about it too, and sort of took Rickie to task over the deal.

But Erik stayed a customer of the motel and the restaurant, just not the bar. Erik developed a habit of drinking in his room, ordering ice late in the evening, since all the tourists attacked the ice machines earlier in the evening and the machines couldn’t keep up with the onslaught. Besides, the ice machine in the restaurant made smaller cubes or shaved ice if requested. He’d call the front desk, leave his wakeup calls, and ask for ice. I’d open up the restaurant (usually closed by the time he called), get his ice and deliver it. He’d tip me of course, but I was interested in seeing him in his shorts or at least out of his suit and tie. Over the course of the next couple of weeks, we knew each other on a friendly basis, and of course that extra few dollars each night—well it put gas in the car.

I didn’t really know just how “friendly” Erik was until one Thursday night. Erik had been staying for nearly two weeks straight and wasn’t going home until the following weekend. He’d had an early dinner and had apparently started in on his Dewar’s & Water—the only scotch he drank—rather early. It was late when he called, and I’d just closed out my shift. The guy who was training me on the night audit was off, and this spooky guy—Gerald, was his relief. They were planning on releasing him, so they didn’t want him working with me. As I’d mentioned, this extra training paid off in multiple ways—my 12 midnight curfew had disappeared, so I was free to either hang around the motel, or head downtown.

I’d already planned on the downtown option tonight—it’d been nearly two weeks since I’d done anything but jack off. I was primed and ready. I almost didn’t take the switchboard call, but Gerald was irritating a late night walk-in who was trying to pull the old “guaranteed reservation trick” He’d had a reservation, but it was only good until 6 PM, he’d not guaranteed it. Anyway, I answered the call, and heard Erik’s voice on the other end. He spoke slowly, and it was clear that he’d had a few. He asked just for ice, no wakeup calls. I reminded him of his omission, he just blurted out, “I’m taking the fuckin’ day off tomorrow!” This was out of character, but I didn’t question him. I unlocked the restaurant, got the ice and headed to his room, second floor on the back parking lot side.

I knocked and there was no answer, I knocked again, still no answer. I could hear the TV going. I became concerned, and since I knew him well enough, I cautiously unlocked the door with my master key, and stepped just inside the doorway. Not wanting to miss either a view of this fine male specimen, or miss out on a tip, I called out loudly over the TV. My concerns were put to rest when I heard the toilet flush. The bathroom door opened and out stepped Erik—totally naked. He was also very much well on in the beverage department…a but unsteady on his feet and apparently oblivious of his nakedness.

“Brian, thanks, pull up a seat and have a drink…”

Like a good employee, I declined, but I didn’t make any attempt to leave…my eyes were having a feast. Erik lust looked quizzically at me, then reached absently for his wallet. Since he was naked, voila—no back pocket. He was now sort of aware of his nakedness, but just moved over to the dresser, found his wallet and handed me $10 bucks. Now he’d usually just tip me $2, $3 or maybe sometimes $5, so I declined the $10.

“Naw, go ‘head and take it. I like you! You deserve it for puttin’ up with me!

I respectfully declined, but couldn’t tear my gaze from him. Erik picked up on this, probably had in the past, but never said anything. Tonight was different. “Hey, guy, I’ve been noticin’ that you’ve been lookin’ at me kinda funny. Anything wrong…or you just might be likin’ what you’re seein’?

There it was—it just shot out of his mouth. I didn’t have an answer and my mind was still spinning from the question. “Yes, err…I mean no…I mean yes you’re a very handsome guy and someday I hope to have a body like yours… that is if I ever have enough time to work out.” Lame—yes—but it was all I could muster.

“Ah come on, keep me company for a while. My appointments got cancelled tomorrow…so I’m free as a bird.” With that his right arm raised up in mock flight imitation. As he did this, his cock, which had been slowly growing stiffer, shot out at attention…he’d popped a woody. He saw me looking at it just a bit too long, then just smiled and stammered, “Nice huh…relax…I won’t bite! Besides, look’s like you’ve got a problem child there too.”

I’d been so preoccupied, I’d not even been aware of my involuntary condition. I guess being inebriated has its false courage…Erik just stepped forward and placed his drink free hand on my crotch. My cover was blown—or more like about to be—blown that is. I just stood there as he set down his drink and ran his hands on my shoulders and then down my chest. Then his hand went for my belt. I made a nervous gulp. I could smell the combination of his cologne, a full day’s worth of man odor from working, and the Dewar’s on his breath.

This guy apparently knew what he wanted, wasn’t worried about it, had me made cold, and I was horny. Again, my pecker did the talking. Erik was big, more muscular than Jason, but his pecker was definitely smaller…so I wasn’t that scared…just the unmistakable thrill of a new man. My throat was dry. I asked for a glass of ice water, which I just fixed myself. Erik was now sitting on the middle of the closest bed, slapping his hand on the mattress by his right side, motioning for me to join him. I pulled off my remaining shirt and Jockey’s and sat next to him.

Seconds later we were wrapped around each other and Erik’s tongue was trying to rearrange my tonsils. Shit he had a long tongue…he even me fighting my gag reflex while attempting to catch my breath. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, probing—finally coming to rest on my butt cheeks. I eagerly followed his lead. What ever his hands were doing to me, my hands were doing so to him. Only difference being his hands stopped at my butt cheeks, my probing fingers separated his cheeks and probed his hole. As soon as one of my fingers slipped past his sphincter, I felt his digit at my rear entrance, seconds later slipping past my defenses. We were now both finger fucking each other and it was clear to us both that we were enjoying ourselves.

“Who want’s to go first?” Erik just blurted out.

I thought for a brief minute, but since I don’t really like to be played with after I’ve cum, plus I guess some sort of motel employee etiquette, I told Erik he could have first crack. He pulled us both back prone on the bed, and then reached for the nightstand drawer, hauling out a jar of Vaseline. He liberally coated the crack of my ass then gave his torpedo a couple of jacks and a good coating. “I always use this, either when I’m by myself, of the wife’s dry” he chuckled. He didn’t’ waste any more time, he just positioned himself behind me and confidently pushed his way right in.

It took a bit of getting used to, but I was getting better at this. Erik didn’t say anything, perhaps he knew this by the ease of his penetration, or he was just too drunk and horny to care. He immediately set to plowing my ass, thrusting all the way in and out. His cock was rock hard and straight as an arrow…working like a well fitting piston in a cylinder. It wasn’t much longer before he blew his head gasket, held still for maybe 60 seconds, then just pulled out.

I was fairly stiff, but not hard. I hadn’t been stroking along, and Erik had been solely focused on pleasuring himself. However, he did keep his end of the bargain, and just handed me the jar, then rolled over on his other side. Just the thought of this made me hard within seconds. I greased up my cock, coated the crack of his ass, and inserted my pud in its target. Erik made a noticeable “ugggh”, but other than that, his body just let me in easily. Since it had been several days, I too didn’t’ take long before I arched my back and rammed him good, buried myself as deep as I could go, and let loose.

We cleaned up, Erik poured himself another drink. Before I dressed, I hit the bathroom once again, as I wanted to make sure gotten all the cum out of my ass—no tell tale stains in my Jockey’s on washday. I finished, dressed, gave Erik a kiss, and then let myself out. It wasn’t until I was walking back in the direction of the lobby that I realized I’d forgone even a lesser tip. Oh well, I’d been tipped enough I figured…probably get a bigger tip next time…if he remembered. I decided to sneak around the far end of the pool, and not go through the lobby, that way Gerald wouldn’t see me and I wouldn’t have to see him. Nearing my car, I reached in my pocket for my keys.

I felt paper…I pulled it out…sure enough—there was $10 bucks. Fair enough deal after all. I got home around 1:30 AM and considerately pulled into the driveway with just my parking lights on, quietly easing up the driveway to my parking space. I killed the ignition and got inside the house with a minimum of noise, walked through the kitchen and hallway and headed for my upstairs bedroom. No one was even up…the house was dark. Once in my room, I undressed. Again I pulled out my wallet and checked all the pockets. In my left rear pocket was $50 bucks.

This time I wasn’t offended, I wasn’t hurt. I just hadn’t been able to thank him, but I’d see Erik tomorrow—I’d make a point of it. I’d thank him then. I crawled into bed, turned off the light and thought about Erik and my good fortune. The thought occurred to me—I’d made more money that night having fun—than I did working. I just had this cozy warm feeling, fatigue overcame me and I drifted off…

Technically, I guess you would say this was my first…customer service job.