Gay Erotic Stories

A light rapping on the door jamb made me look up from my computer screen and, to my delight, my gaze was met by the sight of Raoul's handsome face peering inside, the rest of him remaining on the other side of my open doorway. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Hoffman?" Boy, did I ever, I thought to myself. I managed to maintain a stoic expression, one that everyone who worked for me always expected me to wear and simply motioned for him to enter. My other hand was holding the receiver of my telephone, elbow on desk, intently listening to my boss prattling away on the other end. In my periphery, I noticed Raoul standing alertly several feet from my desk, clad in his normal attire: dark blue work pants and a light blue, short-sleeved button-down shirt. He always seemed nervous around me, casually allowing his eyes to look around but never at me. I didn't mind. It gave me all the more reason to furtively eye him over without him noticing. What a sight he was! Raoul was Mexican and average height for his heritage. But that was where the averages ended. He had a wrestler's physique, which showed quite well through his uniform, and a youthful face complete with short-cropped black hair with hints of curls at the top. In a word, magnificent. His quiet sentiment only makes him more mysterious and irresistible. He set his tool box down at his side, deciding that I wouldn't be ending my call anytime soon. I motioned for him to take a seat, which he respectfully declined with a slight wave of his hands and half-nod. It was then that I noticed the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened, revealing a healthy crop of chest hair. Undoubtedly, the humid Atlanta afternoon had forced him to search for temporary relief during his busy manual work day. At the sight of his chest hair, my manhood began to spring to life, and I swiveled my chair around to distract my view. "Okay, Jackson," I finally said, "I'll get you the report by five o'clock today." After a few more words from my boss, because he seemed to always want to have the last word, I ended the call. As I put the receiver down, I rolled my eyes at Raoul as if to feign frustration over my conversation with my boss, and he gave me a wonderful smile. "Thanks for your patience, Raoul." I said, again motioning for him to sit down. He again declined. "Jackson can be such a chatty Cathy sometimes. Don't you think?" "I wouldn't know, Mr. Hoffman," he shyly responded with a shrug. "Mr. Whitley and I don't have too many opportunities to talk." I chuckled at the slight humor in his statement and Raoul's face hardened with fear. "I hope you know I didn't mean anything disrespectful about that, Mr. Hoffman." "Oh, lighten up, Raoul," I said as I stood up, towering half a foot over the office handyman. "I won't tell on you." I smiled as I rounded my desk, walking over to the windows to attempt to open them more only to discover that they already were open all the way. The heat from the outside and the absence of a breeze, kept the air around the room very still. "And, please, we've been working together for a couple of months now. Don't you think you can begin calling me Hank?" Raoul looked down at the floor, his tanned face reddening slightly. "I'll try, sir." I smiled and left it alone at that, recognizing how much I've failed in making him feel relaxed. "So, let's get down to business." I said, as I walked over to the far wall where several flat boxes were stacked leaning against it. "I bought these framed pictures that I would like to hang above that credenza. Can you help me with this?" "Not a problem, sir," he said and immediately sprang into action. He began removing the framed pictures from the boxes and I walked back to my desk. I sat down and gazed for a few moments at Raoul's physique. His short sleeves allowed his muscular arms to inadvertently flex while he worked, revealing striations only hours at the gym and physical labor would embellish. Through his uniform, I could see a well-muscled back, tapering to a narrow waist. His uniform pants fit him snugly, highlighting his firm, slightly rounded buttocks. Before I could begin fantasizing about him further, I took my eyes off of him and decided to get back to work. "Let me know if you have any questions, okay?" I said. Raoul slightly turned his head to look at me and, as predictable as his quiet demeanor would concede, simply nodded in response and returned to working. I followed suit and proceeded to tap on my keyboard to complete the report that I promised my boss. Raoul was moving rather quickly on the task and in fifteen minutes, he had hung two of the four framed pictures. He'd worked up quite a sweat, and used his work rag to wipe perspiration off his face and arms. I'm certain that he secretly dreaded the fact that I didn't have the air conditioner on, choosing to cool my room by simply having my windows open. "Mr. Hoffman?" he asked, "I don't mean to complain but it's really warm in here." I looked up from my monitor. "I'm sorry about that, Raoul, but air conditioners give me headaches. Since you're working late tonight, why don't you just finish this later after I leave? That way, you can have the air conditioner on while you work." "That's okay, Mr. Hoffman," he said, "I'll be alright." "No, I insist," I said. "Actually," Raoul said, his voice slightly cracking, "Would it bother you too much if I took my shirt off? I'm used to working outdoors when I apprenticed as a carpenter, and it always seems to help in this kind of climate." I sat in stunned silence for a few moments before managing to regain my composure. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. Why the hell would seeing him shirtless bother me? I thought to myself. For a second, I considered if what he proposed was inappropriate. I wasn't sure if Raoul knew that I was gay and that his offer would certainly have been viewed to be inappropriate by those who knew. But, since it was already close to six, and, apart from Jackson Whitley down the hall, everyone else had left the office over an hour ago, I figured that it wasn't a problem. I don't remember verbally responding to his query, but I must have agreed to it since I heard him say Thank you. I was then treated to the sight of Raoul proceeding to unbutton his shirt. He tugged at it to remove the last button and, turning slightly toward me as if to give me a better view, took it off in one graceful movement. I felt my mouth gape as I took in the vision of Raoul with his hairy chest and undeniably incredible physique. As he casually rolled up his shirt, I couldn't help but fixate on his muscular shoulders and arms. I don't know if he was privy to my spying, but I had to quickly look away for fear of being discovered. He set his rolled up shirt next to his tool box, again thanked me, and went back to work. I managed to nod, hopefully appearing unfazed, and, with much effort, continued to finish my report. Every so often, my eyes would wander toward Raoul's bare back, his dark skin glistening with sweat. Disallowing myself to fully give in to the distraction in front of me, I finished my report and started to print it when the telephone rang. Predictably, it was Jackson wondering why it was now six fifteen and his six o'clock report was still not at his desk as promised. I mustered a pathetic apology, got up to fetch the report from the printer, and headed for the door. It was then that I noticed that Raoul had completed his project and had already began to collect his belongings. I walked over to where he was hunched over this tool box. "Thanks again for doing this, Raoul." I said, patting him on his shoulder. It was sweaty and, although I would ordinarily have been repulsed by such a sensation, I didn't mind it this time. At my touch, Raoul got up and offered a handshake. "It was no big deal, Mr. Hoffman. And I really appreciate you letting me take my shirt off. It really helped." I was treated again to the sight of his enticingly hairy, muscular physique. His proximity suddenly made me feel uneasy, and I quickly shook his hand before turning around to leave. I bade him goodnight without facing him, partially because I couldn't bear to see his partially naked body any longer, and also because I felt another erection begin to occur. By the time I handed Jackson Whitley his report, my erection had calmed down and my heartbeats had slowed to a normal pace. Thankfully, Raoul was not in the office when I returned. I sat back down at my desk and, being the consummate workaholic that I was, proceeded to work on another set of reports. From my window, I could see the faint glimmer of yet another missed sunset. I was stirred from my reverie when I heard the rapping on my door jamb. I was pleasantly surprise to see Raoul's face peering from its corner. "It's seven o'clock on a Friday night, Mr. Hoffman," he said, smiling. He was still shirtless and was carrying a can of paint and a roller. "Shouldn't you be heading out soon?" I was relieved to hear a light-hearted tone in his voice, appearing to have worked through the shyness he so naturally displayed earlier. I smiled back at him, and clasped my hands behind my head, leaning back against my chair. "No rest for the wicked, you know?" He shrugged and held up the paint can and roller that he had in his hands. "I'm one to talk, right?" I chuckled. "Well, there's one thing we have in common." He suddenly gave me a smug expression and allowed a grin to form on his beautiful lips. "I think we have more in common than you think." With that, he nodded as if to excuse himself, and walked down the hall. I didn't completely understand what he meant by his last statement, wondering if he had interpreted what I said about having something in common as an assertion of socio-economic classification. Not being one to put much thought into such matters, I dismissed it and went back to work. It was around nine o'clock when I finally left the office. I was tired but reminded myself that it was Friday night and, although I was content with my hermit-like existence, I wanted to do something fun. In fact, I was in the mood for something wild. Luckily, being downtown, I really didn't have far to go to engage in anything recreational. I took the elevator down to the parking level of my building, dropped off my briefcase and jacket in my car, removed my tie, unbuttoned my collar, and walked up the parking lot ramp into the humid Atlanta evening. A few blocks from my office building was one of my favorite hangouts, a bar called Mumuus where every other Friday the owners put on an all-male revue. The dancers there were always of the highest caliber. As expected, the place was packed but at least there wasn't a line at the door. I paid the good-looking, burly bouncer a ten-dollar cover, and headed for the bar. I ordered a Corona and proceeded to scan the room. During this stage in my life, I was unattached and wasn't really looking for a relationship or even casual sex but I've always found it amusing to go window shopping every once in a while. My scanning yielded the gaze of an attractive, well-dressed man at the end of the bar drinking a martini. I raised my bottle to him and he raised his glass at me. That was the signal. I walked over to him and started a harmless conversation. The music abruptly changed to a familiar theme song and the lights dimmed, and I knew that the revue was about to begin. My newly-found friend and I meandered through the crowd and lucked out in finding spots at the front near the stage. The crowd began to get noisy and started cheering as the theme song reached its end, and the emcee, one of Mumuu's owners, bellowed an enthusiastic welcome to the spectators. He proceeded to promise a night of gorgeous, naked men, blah, blah, blah. Although I'd been to many revues and am no stranger to their antics, one would think I was a virgin to it by the excitement I was feeling tonight. There was something in the air that I couldn't quite put my finger on. My new friend, however, knew exactly where he wanted to put his fingers. I enjoyed his touch but was determined not to pay too much attention to it. After all, I was there to enjoy show. The first two dancers were fabulous, with smooth, muscular bodies that took me to a brink of horniness that my erection was in full swing by the end of the second dancer's session. I didn't care that my erection was noticeable. Not in that place, at least. I didn't even care that my new friend freely kneaded it as casually as one would prepare pizza dough. I hoped he didn't mind that I paid him no heed. My heart skipped a beat when the third dancer, wearing a face mask, came on stage, clad in bondage straps around his torso and a leather G-string. I couldn't keep my eyes off of the dancer's hairy, muscular body, writhing in choreographed unison with the intoxicating music permeating the kinetic room. At one point in the song, he danced in my direction and stopped in front of me, dangling the loose pouch of his G-string inches from my face. Embarrassed but enjoying the show, I moved along with him, my mouth agape following the movement of his crotch. I was captivated by the dancer's attention to me that I almost completely forgot about my new friend, only to be occasionally reminded by his fervent groping. The crowd went wild when the dancer removed his G-string and revealed his natural endowment. He was a marvelous sight. The dancer, now in his birthday suit, danced in my direction again. He sat on the edge of the stage, continuing to writhe with the music while he sat. Slowly, he lifted a hand, placed it behind his head to unzip the mask, and removed it. Shocked at the sight, I stopped dancing, and I was suddenly staring at the very handsome, very familiar face of Raoul's. He smiled at me and gave me a long, passionate kiss that I welcomed albeit in dazed confusion. Then he got up, and finished his session to a then wildly howling audience of horny men. He disappeared behind the curtains and the emcee got back on stage; evidently, Raoul was the final act tonight. The stage darkened and the dance music began to blare again to an incessantly mobile crowd, whose faces are now visible due to the slowly brightening room. After what seemed like forever, I walked back to the bar, leaned up against it, and tried to collect myself. I was in disbelief over what had happened. I certainly wasn?t expecting to see Raoul tonight, let alone at Mumuu's. And that kiss! I was suddenly aware that my new friend has moved on but I certainly didn't mind at that point. Zombie-like yet increasingly aware of the need to make a hasty departure, I made my way to the door hoping to leave before anything else crazy happens. I exited onto the sidewalk, still teeming with nightlife at a little after midnight, and walked toward my office building. The air had gotten a little cooler, and it was a relief to be breathing in some of what would make for fresh air in the city. Feeling a little woozy, and deciding that I perhaps had consumed more alcohol than I expected, I headed for my usual all-night café for a little sobering. Although, it was five blocks out of the way from my office, I knew that I had to sit down, relax, and contemplate my encounter with Raoul before driving home. I sat down at a booth by the window, and the waitress, who recognized me, poured me a cup of coffee. "Cream and sugar, hon?" I nodded hazily. "Please." She gave me a knowing smile, the kind that assumed that I will be paying the price in the morning for partying tonight. Little does she know how much I'm going to pay. If Raoul hadn't known I was gay before tonight, he certainly knows now. And I've seen him in his naked glory. And that kiss! I'd be damned if that doesn't affect how I look at him in the office from now on. I was so confused and befuddled that I didn't even notice Raoul lightly rapping on the window, smiling tentatively at me from outside the café, giving me a wave. I smiled back and, without hesitation, motioned for him to come in. I wanted to talk to him about tonight, and how I feel about how it will affect our working relationship. Raoul looked down at his feet, then at me, then down the sidewalk, as if deciding what to do. It appeared that he, too, understands the complexity of the situation and the potential for disaster. With some hesitation, he inched away from where he stood toward the café door. He entered and walked toward my booth. He hesitated again for a moment before sitting down across from me. Before either of us could say a word, the waitress came up to the table. "Coffee, gorgeous?" the waitress asked, lasciviously. Raoul, with his seemingly bottomless charm, smiled at the waitress and said yes. The waitress grinned, walked away, and returned with a mug and pot of coffee. As she poured the coffee, I looked out the window toward the street, Atlanta, it seems, was finally going to bed. The waitress went to tend to her other customers, and I looked across the table and found Raoul looking intently at me. Immediately, as he normally would, he began to look around me, not meeting my gaze, and remained silent. I felt that Raoul was subconsciously deferring to me to say the first words so I began by stating the obvious. "Well, this is awkward." Thankful that the ice had been broken, Raoul heaved a sigh and smiled. "It sure is, Hank." "Now, just because I've seen you naked doesn't mean you can go informal on me." I said, then chortled. I realized that I needed to keep things light. Raoul laughed with me, appreciative of my response. Then his face became somber again. "I really hope this doesn't change things between us." he said. "I really like working in your company. The people there are nice to me." My heart sank at the reality of the situation. As light-hearted as I wanted to be in addressing what had happened, the gravity of what took place had to be discussed. "Of course, this changes things, Raoul." I said, "But it doesn't have to be a bad change." "What do you mean?" "I mean," I said, at once uncertain of what to say while knowing exactly what to say, "What about that kiss? Did that mean something?" "Yes," Raoul quickly but shyly said. "Yes?" I prodded. "Yes," Raoul repeated. "I've always liked you, Hank, and had a feeling that you liked me, too." "I didn't know you were gay." I said, almost embarrassed at how the statement escaped my mouth. "Like you," Raoul continued,"I am not flamboyant about it, but I also don't deny or hide it. I mean, I dance naked in front of other men." "Did you know I was gay?" I asked. "Not at first," Raoul said, "but I've noticed how you look at me whenever I'm in your office." Raoul paused, obviously keen to my reddening face. "I didn't mean to embarrass you." he said, reaching across the table to touch my hand. I was surprised at his gesture, but then I flipped my hand to clasp his. And he gave me that wonderful smile. "I became more certain when I noticed your reaction after I asked to work shirtless this afternoon." He smiled coyly. I grinned. "That was very sneaky. Effective, but sneaky." "I'd been dancing at Mumuus for months but I've never seen you there." Raoul continued. "When I saw you while I was on stage, I knew that I wanted to make my move tonight. Hence" "...the kiss". I completed his thought. "Yes," he smiled. "The kiss." I tightened my grip on his hand. It was then that I decided my hermit stage was over. "It was a great kiss." Raoul leaned forward on the table and reached out for my other hand. With a relaxed manner, he looked me straight in the eyes for the first time, and simply smiled. I smiled back, and realized that Raoul and I had experienced an epiphany. Things around the office would indeed never be the same.