Gay Erotic Stories

We were both spastic, and I had my arms wrapped around him tight so we were holding each other as the now-cool water continued to cascade over us, our frantic face sucking now a long deep kiss that got even hotter when he turned to face me and we wrapped our arms around each other. I finally broke the kiss and smiled. “Your son is hungry,” I reminded him. “And so am I!”

Jim still had his arms around me and he pulled me in for a quick kiss and said, “Let me do a little cleanup here, and then we’ll have those waffles.”

We were dressed soon thereafter and emerged from his part of the house and made our way to the kitchen. The smell of coffee was so strong it was a reminder of how long we’d been since Jim’s son Perry had rung his dad on the bedroom intercom and requested his “famous waffles”. Perry was sitting at the bar counter where he’d found his dad and me the night before when he came in late, when we were refueling after an afternoon and evening of amazing sex.

Perry looked up at us from his iPad with a LOOK and took his earbuds out. “Look, I GET that you guys are getting your sex quotient, and I’m down with that totally, but a growing boy has to eat, ya know!”

Jim laughed and reached across and smacked him lightly, and Perry’s face broke to a broad beaming smile. It was pretty clear these two had a great relationship. “That’s for being fresh with not one but TWO elders!”

“Heh,” I broke in, “Who are you calling an ‘elder’, old man?” We knew we were almost the same agonizing age – firmly middle-aged statistically.

We all three laughed. Jim continued with another to Perry: “And furthermore, you’re only ‘a kid’ when you want your old dad to do something for you; otherwise you’re a self-professed ‘a grown man’ who doesn’t need help or guidance from said old man. You know how to feed yourself!”

Perry’s smile went from cocky fun to a little boy’s smile in an instant. “But, dad, you know how I love our waffle Sunday mornings. Ever since I was a kid . . . “

“Oh, hell, he’s really turning it on, Bill.” To Perry he said, “It’s getting deep in here, and it’s your turn to do the housework this week, so I’d go easy,” he laughed. And we all did. “Bill, you know anything about waffles?”

Did I? Actually I did, but what would Perry think if I intruded on the waffle Sunday morning even more than I was already? “I, uh . . . I can find my way around a kitchen, but I’m nothing special,” I said.

To that Jim pulled me to him and kissed me firmly. I was surprised but held him, too, and enjoyed the quick hit. “You’re VERY special, Bill,” he said, when he released our lip lock.

“Yeah, we know, dad, even the neighbors heard how special the colonel and you are together. Now about those waffles?” Perry said, a snarky smile on his lips, his eyes wide.

Before I had time to be embarrassed, Jim broke into a laugh that seemed like it wouldn’t stop, and his handsome nineteen-year-old son joined him. I couldn’t help but be drawn into the lightness of the moment, even if it was a little weird being called out on our pigsex by my new lover’s almost-adult son.

Jim’s waffles were, in fact, world class, and I ate injudiciously of those amazing treats, slathering them in mounds of quickly melting butter and warmed thick maple-butter syrup, matching his son’s voracious intake one-for-one. And at the time, being starved after our night and morning of wild sex, I didn’t give any thought to the hours in the gym it would take to burn the waffles off, nor did I care, actually. Jim had eaten plenty himself, standing on in the kitchen by the waffle irons he had going – yes two waffle irons at the ready to satisfy father and son – apparently without care for the effect of the intake on his perfect musculature. When in Rome . . .

Somewhere toward the end of our feeding frenzy Perry took a long gulp of milk and said, “Dad, I’m assuming since you have company,” with a snarky look at me and a nudge of his wide shoulder into mine, “that our usual Sunday tennis is off today?”

Jim gulped himself, looking like he’d almost choked on the waffle he was chewing. “I, uh . . . “ he started and looked at me helplessly.

“Oh, no, Perry,” I jumped in. “I need to get home anyway and do stuff. No way would I intrude on your day with your dad.”

Jim looked relieved for a second, but he also looked very unhappy. I figured, wrongly, that it was because he was calculating how he could get me home and out so that he and Perry could get on with their day. Perry had other ideas than the both of us.

“Do you play tennis, Colonel?” he asked me?

I was torn between a convenient lie and the truth which would have their day far more complicated. I hesitated and looked at Jim, who looked like he was contemplating something complex and now had another variable to consider.

“Do you, Bill?” he said, to my surprise.

It was my own inability to lie – something which was core to my being but had often landed me in less-than-favorable circumstances, particularly dealing with gay men – that made me answer that I did and do indeed play tennis.

“Well, that’s great,” Perry exclaimed enthusiastically, and he continued with, “Isn’t it, dad?”

Jim looked like it was anything but, and again I incorrectly figured it was the prospect of the inconvenient disposal of his overnight trick – me!

“Hey Perry, go shower up, and let me figure out logistics with Bill.”

“Sure, dad,” he responded. Perry was up off the stool in a heartbeat and heading off toward the part of the house where his room was. He was halfway through the great room behind the kitchen when he stopped abruptly and bounded back, his hand outstretched toward me. “Colonel, really glad you’re around, and I hope you’re around a lot more,” he said.

I managed to be gracious and say, “Thanks, Perry, a pleasure to meet you,” but in my head I was certain he was following his father’s line of thought and knowing what his father had said was a precursor to my ejection.

Perry bounded off again, and I turned to Jim. “Great kid. You should be awesomely proud. And I really don’t want to intrude on your Sunday with Perry, so if you can call me a taxi—“

“What? You . . . ?” he started, but he stopped.

We were both in that awkward silence, and it seemed interminable. I really needed to get out of there before my presence was any more inconvenient for Jim and go home and put it all in the spank bank. I reached for my cell phone on the counter, but Jim’s hand was over mine as I reached it. “Bill, I . . . “

“Hey, Jim, don’t sweat it, man. I’ve had a great time, but it’s time to go, so I’ll go.”

“I . . . don’t . . . “ he stuttered.

“Dude, we don’t have to play some big scene here. We’re both adults. We hooked up. For what it’s worth, it was amazing. And now we both go on.” I was getting my own strength back.

But Jim’s face darkened, and he pulled back his hand. “Is that what we did, COLONEL? We hooked up?” he snarled?

I was taken aback by the venom, and at the same time my eyes strayed to his big hand which had so recently been on mine, and I realized how much I’d enjoyed it. Jim was still looking at me, eyes blazing, as my eyes went back to his. “Well, go on, COLONEL. If you’re so desperate to get away from your trick, go ahead and call the fucking taxi!” he spat at me, flaming eyes still boring into me.

Thank God for training. You learn a lot about command and personal interaction, and surprisingly, how to diffuse a combative situation with peers and override your natural testosterone-driven tendency to rise to the conflict and engage. “Jim, would you be willing to start this conversation over?” I said softly, still holding his gaze.

His glare held a beat and then his nostrils, which I hadn’t even realized were flaring, relaxed and so did the bulging cords in his neck. He came around the counter and sat on the other stool, the one his son had vacated earlier, and he turned to me. “Great idea, Bill. Thanks for throwing me that one,” he said, his hand so close to mine on the counter that I could feel his heat.

I moved my hand and covered his and looked down at the sight of our big hands together. It was pleasing, almost looking like they belonged together. His big, hairy, muscular hand and mine, lighter-furred, so it didn’t look so furry at a glance, but equally big and muscular. I looked down at his muscular legs out of the long-legged basketball style black shorts he’d put on after our shower. Mmmmmmmm, our shower. I looked back up to him and saw those beautiful baby blue eyes shining again with the kind of excitement and promise I’d so enjoyed for the past 18 plus hours. “OK, Jim, here goes,” I said, and I gathered myself as I paused. “This was awesome, Jim. YOU were awesome, Bill.”

“Was,” he said, softly, and the shine was gone out of his eyes. “Were,” he added, even softer, and he was looking down now at our hands together.

“Ummmm,” I started, but I had nothing. He turned his hand over under mine and clasped it. “Mmmmm,” came out, and my eyes closed for a minute.

“This is good, Bill,” he said quietly.

“Oh, man, ‘good’ is a vast understatement, counselor!” I said, and we both laughed.

“Are you always this difficult to pin down?”

“I usually do the pinning, as you have found out several times already,” I shot back.

Still holding my hand on the counter, he took his other hand and said, “I could get used to that.”

“Used to what,” I said, a smile going to a grin on my face.

“Used to you never letting a comment that could be turned to sex pass without comment.”

“So back to getting ‘used to’ it,” I said.

Now Jim grinned, and his thumb stroked my stubbly chin. Neither of us had shaved, and I looked more like an unkempt old man with mine, I knew, while Jim’s dark stubble looked movie star perfect with his. The grin, the handsome face, his touches; I was melting inside.

“Yes, and I want to get used to it,” I somehow realized he was saying though my head was starting to swoon. “So how’s that for an understatement, my handsome colonel?”

I growled involuntarily at the suggestion of possessiveness. “So what’s the deal on the table, counselor?” I said, a bit of a catch in my voice.

“At the risk of abandoning all my training in negotiation,” he said, stroking my face with his whole hand now, and my breathing was quickening, “I know what I want, which is all of you. And I know I’ll take whatever I can have of you. So it’s up to you.”

“Wow,” I said, ineloquently.

“Yeah,” Jim said. “Wow it is for sure.” He shifted on his stool so he was closer to me and squeezed my hand. “Look, Bill, I’m a level-headed guy except when my cock leads me.” He laughed, and so did I. How well I could relate! “But you know the old saying ‘even a blind pig finds a truffle every now and again’?”

“Um, no,” I said, “I can’t say I know that one, Jim.”

“Well, it means that my cock led me to you, and I meant what I said last night when I said there was more here, that we . . . FIT together.”

“Oh, baby, we DO fit don’t we?” I said, wagging my eyebrows Groucho-style.

Bill grinned again, radiating all over me and through me, and then he pulled me to him and kissed me. A toe curler, in fact. “Oh, Colonel, what you do to me!” he said when we broke the kiss.

“I have a proposition for you, counselor. You and Perry enjoy your day together, and I’ll go home and get some things done. And then we can get together later, if you and Perry don’t have plans with each other.”

“I have a better proposition for you, Colonel,” he shot back.

“Ah, the trained negotiator makes his appearance,” I said, laughing.

“You better believe it, Colonel,” he countered playfully. MAN did I get a charge out of this stud! “So here’s my proposition. Stay with us today. Play tennis with Perry and me, have lunch with us at the club, swim with us afterward, come home with us, and, when Perry has had quite enough of his old man and gets back to all the important things teenage boys have to do which are better than hanging out with their fathers, then you and I can pick up where we left off in the showers. How’s that sound to you?”

It sounded like I’d be a third wheel, but it also sounded a helluva lot better than going home and doing laundry and trying to keep myself from going to the gym and abandoning my body’s rest day, just because I had nothing better to do. “Jim, I like the idea, and it’s generous for you to include me, but I don’t want to intrude on your time with Perry.”

At that exact moment, Perry bounded back into the great room and stopped short with a, “Oh, shit, sorry!” He was standing there in a towel, his spikey hair still dripping, and we were both startled but amused. “I just thought I’d grab an apple or orange or something.”

Jim laughed. “The boy is a bottomless pit,” he said, shaking his head. “Here,” he said, grabbing an orange out of a fruit bowl he’d moved when we were breakfasting, and lobbing it across the room effortlessly to his son, who caught it equally effortlessly.

“Thanks!” he said enthusiastically, and turned to go back toward his room, but stopped. “Oh, by the way, Colonel,” he said.

“Yes, son?” I asked, realizing a moment too late that it was a little presumptuous of me to use that term.

Fortunately neither father nor son reacted to my slip of tongue. Perry continued: “We’d really, REALLY like you to join us today . . . for today and for . . . well for as long as you want, Colonel.”

“Wow,” I said.

“Oh, sorry,” Perry said. “I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, but I heard what dad said when I was heading out here. I kinda figured you guys would have been back in dad’s room anyway as soon as I was out of your hair!” he added, with a snarky smile.

“Go get dressed,” Jim said, laughing.

“Perry,” I called across the room when he was almost gone, and he turned. “Thanks for that, and I’ll take you up on today with one condition.”

“What’s that, Colonel?” he said.

“Would you consider calling me Bill? Colonel sounds a little . . . less personal, you know?”

“If that’s what you want, I will. But I think my dad being with a USMC Colonel is WAY hot, and I like it, too!” he said, grinning, and I realized just how much he and his father looked alike.

I laughed and Jim choked a little. To tell the truth I was a little touched by what he said, but my mind was also straying too far to my assessment of his similarity to his father, considering he was mostly naked, and my laugh turned to a cough when I realized that. “Go on, Perry,” his dad said, causing Perry to turn so that his young well-formed ass was now in my sight under that still-wet towel. I coughed some more. “Are you OK, Bill?” Jim asked, rubbing my back between my shoulder blades.

FUCK did his touch SEND me! “Yeah, I’m fine, Jim,” I said, having absolutely no intention of following my train of thought, nor to tell Jim. I turned and faced him again. “I’m really good.”

“So is that a yes then?” he said, face bright?

“Kiss me again and give me some time to think about it,” I said, grinning.

* * * * * * * * * *

We’d figured out the logistics and decided that going straight to the club for the tennis was the most direct route. Then we could go by my place, and Perry could take Jim’s car home, and we’d follow.

The tennis was a lot more fun than I’d expected, planning to be an awkward third, but actually getting drafted by a young man who wanted to play, had a court booked, but, as I found out, his planned opponent was a doctor who was on call and got the call when they were in the lockers getting ready. So I’d had a great match, struggling to barely win two sets out of three, while Jim and Perry had their own close match. I hadn’t been able to see much of their match, paying attention to my own and being two courts away from them, but when we all hit the lockers and showers at about the same time, I heard about it from an enthusiastic Perry.

“Dad is SUCH an awesome player, Colonel,” he gushed as we were stripping to hit the showers. “He totally cranks!” he added.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Perry; tie breaks in each of the three sets, bud; you rocked,” his dad said, with pride in his voice.

“Dad, I’ve still got a ways to go obviously, if I get taken to tie breaks by a guy twice my age!” he said, with that snarky grin, and he bounded off to the shower.

And, yes, I did see how VERY much he was like his father – head to toe – and I steered my mind away from those thoughts poste haste!

The guy I played, Dave Weber, was a guy Jim knew professionally, and we had some buddy talk in the shower, and then came the awkward moment when Dave asked, “So, how do you two know each other?” to us when we were all lathered in the communal shower.

Perry guffawed loud enough for Weber to hear him, and he said, “What?” Perry recovered before either Jim or I could get our thoughts to words, and he said, “The colonel is dad’s new boyfriend, Mr. Weber.”

My heart stopped a little, and I don’t even know what Jim’s reaction was, as he’d shoved his head fully under the spray of his showerhead. There was a moment before Weber reacted that seemed to me much longer than it probably was. Finally Weber put out his hand to me to shake, and said, “Good luck, both of you. Jim Ellis is a helluva a guy; you could so much worse, Cate.”

I shook his hand and thanked him, then busied myself with finishing my washing. Thank God he didn’t ask how we met, how long we’d known each other, etc.

When we were back at the lockers dressing, Weber’s locker was in another row. Perry said, very gravely, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. One thing that might take some getting used to with us, Colonel, is that there’s a malfunctional filter between my brain and my mouth sometimes.”

Jim, who’d been silent, said, “Sometimes?”

“OK, OK, dad, I know.”

“No, son, he said, I don’t think you do. There are many people who choose to keep their private lives private, and you don’t know if Bill is comfortable with having his sexual orientation broadcasted or not. That’s very disrespectful and thoughtless.”

“Jim, wait,” I jumped in. Perry looked crestfallen, and no way was I going to let him. “Perry is a smart, perceptive young man, obviously, and he read me just fine. I have no issue with my lifestyle or with people’s reactions, and it’s clear Perry got that from me.”

Perry started to speak, but Jim spoke over him. “Wow, Bill, you’d better head back to the showers!”

I was perplexed and then started to worry that I’d crossed a line and was being told I was out of the game when Jim broke into a grin and added, “Because there’s enough brown on your nose that it’ll take a shower to get it off!” and he laughed. And then Perry laughed, and I exhaled loudly, realizing I’d stopped breathing when I thought I was getting the boot. Perry reached around his father and knocked my shoulder playfully and said “Gotcha, Colonel,” but as soon as Jim turned back to his locker to continue dressing, Perry mimed a big THANK YOU to me. I’m pretty sure that in that moment I was falling in love with both father and son.

* * * * * * * * *

Perry hadn’t even put the car in gear after leaving us out at my condo building when Jim was grabbing my ass and pushing me toward the door. “In a rush much?” I said, laughing.

He growled at me, and my shorts I’d borrowed from him suddenly started to get very tight . . . again.

We crashed in the door of my unit after making out shamelessly in the elevator, and we were at each other, yanking off our clothes, kicking off our shoes and groping and kissing and biting each other. The kitchen counter was close by, and I shoved him down over it and was down on my haunches with my tongue in his swollen rim before he could even gasp. I was rewarded with a long moan that time, and he was pushing his ass back against my face, his legs wide apart, giving me plenty of room to work.

I devoured that sore swollen hole and kept at it until he was begging. “Jesus FUCK ME ALREADY!” he shouted. There was no lube anywhere close, but there was a tube of hand lotion in a small basket on the other side of the counter, and I flailed about until I had it in my hand. I got a glob out of it and shoved it inside him with two fingers roughly, eliciting a yelp, and then he was shoving his ass back onto my fingers, fucking them back. I yanked them out and rubbed some of the lotion that was left on my hand along with his moistness from his saliva-slick ass on my cock and then lined up for entry and SHOVED.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” he yelled and slapped the counter with his big hand. But just as quick as I’d plunged balls-deep into him, he was pushing back, and I knew he wanted to be soundly fucked.

We went at it that way – doggy style – in my kitchen, and I gave it to him good. And as good as I gave he returned with back thrusts, and together our epithets and filthy challenges and pleas to one another echoed through my house. Our sweat was flung about with our impact and thrusts, and it puddled on the counter, the smell of two men sweating and fucking, as usual, was a nose fuck in and of itself and drove me wild.

When I finally felt my big balls stop swinging and pull up as I neared the edge, suddenly Jim got an intelligilble sentence out and shouted, “OH FUCK YES FUCK IT OUT OF ME,” as his ass CLENCHED on my drilling cock, and I felt him spasming and actually heard the first SPLAT of his cum hit the wall under the counter. Of course I lost it at that, thrusting wildly and harder into him and feeling my nuts begin to explode and my cock pumping my seed into him. He was pounding on the counter, still cumming, as I emptied my load into his perfect fuckchute, which seemed to be milking every last drop out of me.

I fell over onto him, my sweat-slick chest against his sweat-slick back, panting, feeling his body heave as he panted below me. The stink of cum and sweat was exhilarating, and I could feel it in my balls as well as my nose, making me even more light-headed. I kissed his scapula and then took a long lick of his salty sweat. “God DAMN, Jim, we do this good.”

As he still panted, he said, “Now who’s making understatements, Colonel?”

I laughed and smacked his ass hard enough that he jumped. Oh that fabulous furry ass of his – practically like slapping a bowling ball it was so hard!

His jump from my smack led to him moving and standing upright, as did I, and he turned and took me into his sweaty arms and pulled our sweat-soaked bodies together. “Before I get something to wipe off your wall where I spooged it, I want you to know something.” I just looked into his beautiful eyes. “I want this,” he continued. “I want a lot of THIS, and all of this, all of today, yesterday, last night, this morning, all of it, Bill.” And then he kissed me deep and long, and I was totally melted into him, as much part of him as when my eight inches had been inside him.

When our kiss broke, we were both breathing hard, and not the residual of our aggressive fuck before. I looked at him and realized I wanted it, too. “I don’t know how to do this, Jim, but I want it, too,” I confessed.

His face was bright and ecstatic. “Bill, this is going to be GREAT! We’ll make it great,” he said.

His enthusiasm was sufficiently intoxicating to make me forget the voices inside my head which warned of taking things too fast, of unrealistic expectations, of the odds of two middle-aged men having a successful happy relationship, of the odds of any man being faithful and honest . . . All I knew in that moment was that we were going to do it. “Guess I better show you where the cleaning supplies are then, because there are going to be a lot of cumloads to clean up!”