Gay Erotic Stories

Rather than sticking around until Curtis’ parents made it home, I figured I’d better put in an appearance at the old homestead, before I’d created any real problems for myself. I helped Curtis go through his room for one last check, then double checked the basement—good thing, he’d overlooked a set of 9 beer bottles left in the pool room, and then left, telling him I’d see him at work on Monday.

My parents were too happy that I’d managed to stay away virtually the entire weekend, but my dad came to my defense eventually, agreeing that I’d reported in and they knew where I was, if not with whom, and that I was close by. He admonished my mother that in just a couple of weeks, I’d be going off to college anyway, and she’d better start preparing herself for my extended absence, since I’d be nearly 900 miles away. Under the circumstances, knowing that I had spent the weekend with a new “fellow employee”, they weren’t too unhappy, but certainly did want to meet my new friend, Curtis, as soon as the opportunity presented itself—(which in their code meant pretty damn soon).

Sunday evening I was only too happy (that’s pronounced tired) to spend with the family—even if it meant capitulating to my wonderful sister’s choice of TV programming. Actually, the TV moving wasn’t all that bad, and the evening passed smoothly. As soon as the 10 PM news was over, I decided it was time to hit the sack. I was really looking forward to sleeping alone—my pooped out pecker needed a breather. I said my good nights, and headed for the peace and solitude of my bedroom. Mom had managed to attach a morning project for me, and was sort of surprised when I didn’t offer any objections. I just figured it was safer to keep things amicable, and headed towards the stairway.

I really wasn’t all that tired. I lay on the bed realizing just how few days I actually had left at home before I’d be driving my little white Camaro some 900 miles eastward to school. The thought was both exciting as well as foreboding. At least I’d know somebody there—Vince. The thought occurred to me that I didn’t know how he was getting back to school. Matter of fact, I didn’t even know if Vince actually had a car of his own, or if he did, would he be taking it back to school? Well, I’d certainly inquire when I saw him. I started thinking about the events of this weekend, and the “meat grinder” I’d just been through. My dick, although sore, was rising to the occasion, straining against my Jockey’s and jeans. I undressed and lay naked on top of the bed, absent-mindedly consoling—okay I confess—stroking my Olympic friend. It was sore to be sure, but to a hormonal 18 year old, it felt good.

My mind turned to the possibilities of generating revenue from our newly hatched little business proposal. I was thinking about how many times per week I could safely juggle this little cottage business without jeopardizing my grades, or for that matter arousing too much suspicion. Should I just confine my part-time business venture to the weekends, or what? How much to charge, what kind of market would there be? Would we be equal partners? Would we work together or alone? Would Vince, being older and knowing the “lay of the land” and living off campus, demand a percentage from me? I was just full of questions that were unanswerable. The options I considered, the more questions I came up with.

Some people take a pill when they’re keyed up and can’t sleep, others read a book, others backwards in crazy increments, and others count sheep. I found myself counting dollars, and fell asleep—hand on cock—naked on top of my bed—with the light on. I didn’t know just how long it was, but I was jolted awake. “Brian, you still up? I saw your light on!” It was my mother, shit—was she headed up the stairs? I struggled to respond, “I was just thinking about school, and I guess I just fell asleep. Go ahead and just hit the light from there for me will ya?”

“Okay, I just saw the light through the bottom of the door; we’re going to bed now.” Her voice was far enough away; thank god she was still at the foot of the stairs. “Good night.”

“Ugh, goodnight. Thanks.”

Shit, now I was awake again—WIDE AWAKE! I crawled under the covers, closed my eyes, and tried to drop off again. Sooner or later—beats me—I did.

I had breakfast and got the morning chore out of the way by 10 AM. This left me with the rest of the day to goof off, since I didn’t need to report for work until 11 PM, being stuck with the night audit. My contemplated hours of freedom were soon negated. Just after I’d showered and dressed, my mother came out of the study. She’d hit on the idea that it’d be a good thing if we might do some shopping—for school.

God I hated shopping. But since there was a sale, and it sounded like she was buying, I decided this too was a good thing. Anyway, the rest of Monday was history. I had a nice dinner at home and managed to have a quick jack off session with my still swollen pecker (hey, I was 18—this was part of my entitlement!) and a shower before leaving for the motel. I saw Curtis at work, having got there about 20 minutes early. We talked briefly, but between the late check-ins, and the GM still poking around, not much talk happened. Just before his shift was over, I took a call on the switchboard; it was our consummate best regular guest—Erik. He was calling for another ‘bucket of ice’. I explained that tonight I was working alone, and wouldn’t be able to deliver on ‘the bucket of ice’ until well after the bar closed. Before I could finish, he cut me off, asking if that nice new guy was still there and could he bring the ice.

I was lamenting the loss of a good tip, but recalling the fact that I was leaving and Curtis would be working after I’d gone to school, I quickly decided I’d clue him in. “Sure Erik, uh, wake-up call at 7 AM” I turned to Curtis, who was now watching me and listening in to my end of the conversation. “Yes, you’re lucky, he’s still here. He’s just getting off; I’ll send him by with some ice for you. He’s closing out the register right now, so is 5-10 minutes okay with you?” Curtis nodded, approvingly apparently thinking money. Erik was pleased and hung up. Well, there went a quick $10 bucks, or more. Curtis was lucky, but the thought occurred to me, I’d not warned him about Erik. The subject just hadn’t come up. I winked at Curtis, and then when the GM was around the corner in the back office, I nodded for him to walk around corner of the lobby front, and quickly told him to hold off for a few minutes delivering the ice, until the GM was gone. One thing was for certain, the GM, although impressive in size and position, was a wimp when it came to his wife. His wife, Cathy, was very attractive, always a perfect lady and pleasant, but wielded some kind of power over him—she kept that big dog on a short leash. He always left immediately after the shift change.

True to form, the GM left promptly at 11:10 PM headed home for a late snack or whatever. We didn’t care--he was thankfully gone. I quickly filled Curtis in on the “extra ice routine” in terms of the quick $10 bucks, and if he was so inclined, there was most likely another $50 in it for some extra ‘company’. So unless Curtis had a strict curfew at home, there was a cash cow in room 211. I showed Curtis where the master keys were left for the restaurant, and the location of the ice machine, which could be used as a contingency backup. He filled a special paper bucket, and he set off for Erik’s room.

I busied myself in starting up the audit. The sooner I got it done, and the room charges posted, the better off I felt, and the more time I had to make sure I balanced the day’s receipts. There was nothing better than having a completely full house, everything done, and balanced. There could be 3-4 hours where one could read, listen to the radio, watch TV (not much on), bullshit with the local cops that came by, or just locked up the place and catch some 40 winks or so.

That night was great. I was completely finished, balanced out and had everything put away but the shift register closeout by about 2:30 AM, less than 30 minutes after the bar closed. Ricky stumbled out of the bar, cursing under his breath—guess he too was headed home for whatever. He bid me good night, and slowly pulled his car away. Sometimes I don’t know just how he made it home.

I locked the front door to the lobby, and was deciding what to do with the record amount of time I had on my hands. That’s when I thought about Curtis. I hadn’t heard a peep out of him. I kind of thought he’d check in with me before he left, but well maybe he just left for home. Maybe he got lucky! I pondered the options for a good 15 minutes or so, then my curiosity got the best of me. I decided at least I could take a walk—I rationalized—my security walk—who was I kidding!—around the place. I made the rounds—first floor first, then the second floor. I stopped by room 211. The lights were on, and so was the TV, but I couldn’t hear anything going on above the din of the television. My question was still unanswered.

Bingo—hey stupid—check out the parking lot. Check and see if Curtis’ truck’s around. I walked through the upper breezeway and looked out over the back lot. Sure enough—third vehicle over—there was Curtis’ truck. Well I’ll be damned, the little whore scored. Then I realized, just whom was I calling a whore—that had been my guy so far to date. Just whom was I kidding? I laughed to myself, and decided I didn’t want to appear nosy—just in case as luck would have it—I’d get caught snooping around outside. I returned to the lobby and the back office behind the front desk, turned on the TV and consoled myself with a soda. $50-60 bucks down the drain. Damn.

I just fooled around frittering away the dead time—3 AM to 5:00 AM. The bread and doughnut vendors plus the paper deliveries started shortly after 5, so one had to be up and alert. The proverbial would hit the fan if the restaurant somehow didn’t get their deliveries of fresh baked goods. After all, breakfast was actually their busiest meal. Like clockwork, they filtered in one after the other. Soon after, the early morning wakeup calls started, followed by the early rise-and-shiners checking out, eager to be on their way to wherever the hell they were going. I actually liked that last part of the night shift—snag a couple of doughnuts or a pastry, fresh coffee, juice, and the satanic pleasure of waking up the guests. (Those room phones all had the ringers permanently set on the extreme panic level—for safety reasons of course!)

Mitsy, my day-shift relief (actually more like comedy relief) came in early. As was normal, she was over-dressed, over painted, bouffant coiffure (looked like one of the Sugar Pops guys—shot from guns), and apparently had showered in the K-Mart toiletries department. The gum she nervously “chonked” on completed the desperate picture. I’d managed to ring out the night register easily completing everything without any guest checking out and screwing things up. Mitsy took over in her own immutable style, and I relegated myself to the switchboard, which was beginning to light up. Madeline, our daytime switchboard operator, was chronically late—as usual. Like Mitsy, she was a bit “long in the tooth” and dressed younger than her years comfortably allowed. We gleefully referred to them as the “M & M sisters”! Thankfully, they never caught on. Had they, we had the perfect observation—they both had an inexhaustible penchant for those little candy coated cuties, ‘piecing’ on them incessantly. How Mitsy worked them between chewing her gum—I’ll never know. Raw talent I guess—at least when it came to the peanut variety.

The 7 AM master clock alarm went off, and I cheerfully began my satanic torture. It was such a treat to know that you’re scaring the hell out of some poor bastard, then keep a straight face and cheerfully—gleefully announce in your kindest voice that “Good morning! It’s 7 ‘o clock, sir!” Damn it was fun. I continued down the list, coming to Erik’s room. I plugged into room 211, and let her rip! I purposely held the ringer longer than normal. The receiver was finally picked up, followed by an abrupt bang, probably against the nightstand…

“Uhhhhh…hello?” It wasn’t Erik’s voice. But it was a voice I clearly recognized—the voice became crisper as the cobwebs cleared… “Son-of-a-bitch…” and the phone hit its cradle loudly. I was busted. He was too!

I hurriedly finished the remaining three wake-up calls, got my shit together and was walking out from behind the counter as the other “M” of the “M & M’s” came in the front lobby door, loaded down with little goodies from home. “I’ve got to run Madeline, I have to get up early this afternoon. Goodbye, Mitsy! See ya both tomorrow!” and I was out the door.

I got into my little Camaro, fired her up, and split—comfortably before Curtis could catch me—that is if he’d wanted to. Ten minutes later I’d pulled into the driveway and was walking from the garage to the back door. Since my dad was out of town, no one was up at this hour, so I just headed upstairs and hit the sack. For some reason, I just couldn’t drop off right away as usual. I chuckled at the thought of my rousting Curtis—but he sort of deserved it. I felt sort of betrayed, cheated if you will, but at the same time I felt that Curtis needed the revenue source worse than I did. In any event, that wake-up call was enough of a payback. I was amusing myself when the phone rang. I didn’t pick up. About the 5th or 6th ring, I heard someone pick up. A couple minutes later I heard my mom’s voice, polite--but not cheerful, “Well yes, his car’s here. He’s already gone to bed…do you want to leave a message for him when he wakes up?”

I snickered to myself, man that’s two for two on the phone calls, bro. Besides, I’d confront him soon enough. I drifted off…