Gay Erotic Stories

Ken's parents were getting ready to leave for their dinner party with the Bronsons'. Ken was nearly eighteen and his parents were making him stay home with a sitter on a Friday night. "Honey," his mother told him, "I don't want you staying home alone with your back the way it is." He had strained his back on Thursday during baseball practice. The doctor told him he'd be out of the season and he should not try to do any lifting until he said so. His mother worried about everything, including just a small back injury to her son. Of course, he thought, she's only doing it because she cares. "The Garrets' son from next door is going to stay with you. He is a little bit older than you, but he's a guy and I thought you'd have more fun talking to a guy about ... well, guy stuff." Ken stared at his mom, almost embarrassed that she said that -- although he was unsure why. "Besides, I don't want you home alone with some girl. You could ... hurt your back or something." She left him in the room to put on make-up. His face was bright red. A few moments later there was a knock at the door. Ken's father came out from his bedroom, buttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He opened the door as the knocker was raising his hand again. "Hey, Scott, how are you?" his dad asked. "Fine, thanks," Scott said. "Thanks for coming over to watch him. We really appreciate it." Scott looked in from the doorway at Ken, almost as if he were inspecting him. Ken was not looking toward him; he sat facing the window, a pouting look on his face. "No problem," Scott said at last, readjusting the backpack slung on his shoulder. "Oh, please, come in," Ken's dad said, moving away from the door. He took notice of the bag Scott had on his shoulder. "What's in there?" he asked curiously. Scott pointed at it with his chin, a suave motion of a man with charisma. "Homework." "On a Friday night?" Ken's father speculated. "Might as well get it done now," Scott said smiling. Ken's father nodded and retreated to the bedroom to apply his necktie. "Help yourself to anything you want to eat," he called back from the hall. Scott nodded his head, dropped his bag to the floor, and sat on the seat of the couch opposite Ken. They sat in a moment of silence before Ken's parents, dressed for a night on the town, entered the room. "We're leaving now," Ken's mother said to the both of them. "Ken, I don't want you doing any strenuous activity. And Scott," she began, looking at him, "there's plenty of food in the kitchen for you. Please help yourself. Watch TV, do whatever you want. We'll be back around eleven." Scott quickly averted his eyes to the clock on the wall: seven-fifteen. Plenty of time, he thought to himself. "Okay, Mrs. Shay. We'll be fine. You two have fun." "We will," Mr. Shay assured him. "Bye." With that he closed the door, holding his wife close in his arms. Ken, looking away from the window for the first time in ten minutes, turned to Scott. This was the first time he'd seen him. He had never been attracted to any man before, but he did make a note to himself that Scott was a very handsome young man. His long blond hair reached to his brow, but it was cut short in the back. Looking out from his bangs was a pair of deep blue eyes. His tanned neck rested on broad shoulders, attached to thick muscular arms with a golden-brown hue about them. His eyes returned to Scott's face, now smiling, and took note of his straight white teeth, how they brightened the otherwise dark room. "How old are you?" Ken asked at last. "Nineteen," Scott responded. Scott had now gotten his first look at Ken. He was used to having attractions for men; he'd slept with four already. Ken's light brown hair was cut short. The bangs were gelled and shot straight down, not quite long enough to reach his eyebrows. His eyes were a sharp gray, his smile a ray of white. He was built as well, although not as much as Scott was. "College?" "Florida State." "What are you doing here?" "Visiting." "Why?" "I missed Mommy and Daddy." Ken smiled. As a kid he would test his babysitters, and none of them responded quite like this. But now he was older, and he did not at all consider Scott a BABYsitter, but more like someone who was watching him temporarily so he didn't hurt himself, and to help him if he did. "Look," Scott began, "you don't need to try me out. I'm good. Honest." Scott's bag caught Ken's eye. "What's in the bag?" "Homework," he lied. Changing the subject, Scott said, "What do you want to do?" "I dunno. What do you wanna do?" Scott looked up again at the wall-clock: seven-twenty one. "We could watch some TV." He picked up the remote and flipped through the channels, stopping at Channel 88. "Whoa, you guys have a satellite!" he exclaimed. "Yeah," Ken said without enthusiasm. "Ninety-five channels, including fourteen sports channels, thirty-four cable channels, thirty-something basic cable stations and two adult ones." Ken stopped there, allowing Scott to look at him. When he did, Ken added, "But my parents have them blocked out when I'm home. It sucks." Scott returned his eyes to the screen. On it the Colorado Rockies were batting against the Cincinnati Reds. They were up by five. "Cool," Scott said, watching the pitcher deliver a fast ball down the middle. The batter took a called strike looking. One out. "Mind if I watch this?" he asked, pointing the remote slightly at the TV. "Go ahead, I don't care," Ken replied. "Thanks," Scott said, propping a pillow to cushion his head. He rested his left foot on his right thigh, shaking it nervously from time to time. The game continued until nine o'clock that night. The Rockies crushed the Reds in a 13-5 victory, bringing in three home runs, one of them a grandslam. Ken yawned. "I think I'll go to bed now," he said tiredly, getting up to his feet. Scott stood up in a hurry. "Do you need me to help you?" "No, no, I'll be fine. Thanks." Scott stood helplessly as Ken eased out of the room and down the hall. "Call if you need anything," he yelled after him. Ken sounded that he understood, and a couple minutes later Scott heard Ken's bed squeak as Ken retired for the night. Scott turned off the TV, tossed the remote on the couch, and walked into the kitchen. He was hungry. He and Ken had shared a bowl of popcorn during the fifth and sixth innings, their hands touching each other in a constant battle for the popcorn with the most butter. Scott recalled touching Ken's hand in the bowl, smearing butter on its back and three of his fingers. Ken had pulled them out, immediately putting them in his mouth. He seemed to enjoy licking the butter from his hand, the butter that Scott had put there. He enjoyed his hand for a full minute before Scott coughed. Scott opened the door to the refrigerator, noticing meat and deli products for a sandwich. Scott helped himself to a large sandwich, equipped with ham, turkey, salami, cheese, mayonnaise, mustard, slices of roast beef, lettuce, tomato and onion. He liked it so much he decided to have a second and a third. Halfway through his third monster of a sandwich he got thirsty. In the fridge there was milk, Coke, bottled water and beer. Resisting the urge for a cold one, Scott poured himself a tall glass of ice cold milk. It felt extremely good as it rushed down his throat and into his stomach. After his third sandwich and two glasses of milk, Scott returned to the living room. He had just started to doze off when he remembered his bag. Inside of it was not homework, but movies. Adult movies. Gay adult movies. He'd ordered them from the mail at school, using a post-office box rather than his address at the college. In his bag were two of them -- "The Job" and "One Stormy Night..." -- and he had four more at home; all of which he had brought from his dorm room for the weekend. You never know what kind of mood you'll be in, he remarked to himself as he packed his back last night. He raced to his bag on the opposite wall, retrieved it, and fumbled for a video. He pulled out "The Job," popped it in the VCR, and with the remote started the movie. It wasn't rewound, so he quickly got it to the beginning, hoping for a nice climax in a foreign house. Scott had never done this before; it was his first time, and he was a little nervous. But he wasn't worried: the parents were due back at eleven, and it was only nine-thirty now. He'd be finished in plenty of time before they got home. Ken awoke to the sound of the VCR. It was in the rewind mode. He had been in a light sleep before, and this had opened his eyes. He now sat up in his bed, his back aching a little. He didn't see any harm in taking a peek on Scott in the living room. Scott leaned forward as the movie began. A boss was yelling for an employee from his office, then told him he had to take care of his nephew. Ken stood up from his bed, then stopped. His back was sore and made his body stiff. He stood stationary for awhile, waiting for it to pass. It did, and he slowly crept to his door. Scott had his hand on his crotch, slowly circling his hardening penis. He had forwarded through the boring stuff and got right to the big sex scene. It wasn't all but a couple minutes away, but he was a horny bastard! The sound of his hand against his jeans covered up the sound of Ken turning the knob of his door. Ken now stood in his doorway. He thought he heard vague pants and moans, as if a quiet orgy was going on in his living room. He also thought he heard something rubbing, like when him mom wore her jumpsuit and walked around the house. He slowly tip-toed down the hall, stopping at the corner. The movie was getting hot. Scott had now unzipped his pants, his fingers crawling around his now-solid dick. It felt good. In college there was hardly any time to jack off, so he went weeks -- sometimes even months -- between sessions. His testicles were raging with jizz. Ken peaked out around the corner. At first the plant blocked his sight, but he looked between the leaves and stared at the TV. His cock instantly went rock hard. He'd never seen a gay porno movie before -- and only three of his dad's straight movies from his underwear drawer -- and this one was hotter than any of his dad's. He looked across to the couch, seeing Scott draw his erect penis from the open zipper, slowly caressing the surface. Ken's mouth dropped, almost drooling on his shirt. He closed his mouth before it happened. Scott didn't hear Ken's shoulder as it bumped into the corner of the wall behind him; it was covered up by the panting from the TV. He had turned it up a couple levels in the past thirty seconds, wanting to hear it better. Every other minute or so he would turn it up again, bringing up the volume, but cautious not to wake Ken in his room down the hall. Ken was now holding himself as well. He didn't just unzip his fly like Scott had; his pants were now around his ankles. He leaned into the plant, adjusting the branches every so often to get a better view, both of the movie as well as Scott's live show. Scott's hand grasped the cylinder shape of his rod. He slowly climbed up and down, keeping in rhythm of the mouth on the television bobbing up and down. Just before climax, as the precum was rolling off his head, the plant behind him rustled. He turned around very quickly. Ken leaned further into the plant. He was jacking his arm faster now, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Scott's hot lava. The hand supporting him, which was holding tight to a branch, gave in a little too much. The branch snapped under his strength, and he stared in fright as Scott turned around, looking him straight in the eye. When Scott saw that Ken was watching him, his first thought was that he'd been caught. Then his eyes drifted down to Ken's crotch, and found that it was nothing of the sort. All the fear left him at once. He looked up into Ken's eyes and smiled. Ken, confused, didn't respond at first. He was a deer trapped in the headlights of a fast-moving car, bearing down on him at a faster and faster pace. He did respond, however, when Scott lifted his hand and beckoned Ken to him. Ken's feet slowly dragged underneath him, his hand shaking like a leaf, as he walked closer and closer to Scott. He'd removed his hand from his penis as he took his first step toward Scott. His pants were now in a heap by the plant. "Come sit by me," Scott said, patting the seat next to him. Ken hesitated, then moved and sat next to Scott. "Let's watch this together," Scott said, and turned back to the TV. Ken was in utter awe. Less than a minute ago he'd been embarrassed out of his mind, literally caught with his pants down, and now he was sitting next the the man whom he was caught by. His head was now swimming in a sea of confusion, his thoughts blistered by all this excitement. He didn't know if he'd live through this or not, perhaps dying from sheer ... happiness. On the screen, two guys were really going at it together. One had his head in the other's lap. The one getting the blow job wore an expression that was undeniable: he was about to come. Ken had worn that expression many times before, as had Scott. Neither of them had seen it on the other before. All that was going to change. Scott looked back at Ken, a closed-lip smile across his face. "Wanna try to do that?" Scott said, nodding his head at the TV. Without thinking, Ken leaned into Scott's lap, his mouth closing over the softening cock. He forced it to perk up with his mouth. Scott's head lolled back onto the pillow behind him, his mouth hanging agape. In Ken's mind, he really didn't have a problem with all of this. After all, he was attracted to Scott (surprising himself a great deal), and Scott obviously had an attraction for him. Now all he really cared about was bring this guy to climax. His cock was harder now than it had ever been, except for when he'd received his first blow job as a freshman in high school. He was now a junior, and he had not had one since. Nor had he had such a fantastic orgasm, neither. Scott draped his arm over Ken's back, hooking inward, his hand finding Ken's dick. He found it, and was never more relieved to feel a cock other than his own in his hand. Something about Ken, something he hadn't yet identified, made him feel extremely comfortable. None of the others he'd been with gave him this feeling, he was sure of it. Ken was special. All Scott wanted now was to spend the rest of the night in Ken's arms, holding each other, feeling the warmth from one another. In the movie, the two men were now going anal. From what Ken could recall from seeing the little bit before, the guy who had sprayed his load on the other's face was now taking it up the ass. And he was liking it. Ken refocused his gaze on the piece of meat that was now in his mouth. Scott's pubes were a thick mat of black hair. Between strokes, Ken reached down to feel them. His were about the same, but there wasn't quite as much. He loved the smell of pubic hair. It smelled so much like a jock strap. Now that he thought of it, he enjoyed the smell of the locker room after a long game of baseball. Scott now readjusted his position. He breathed a long sigh of relief, then several short ones after that. His hand rested on the back of Ken's head, then eased it so his cock was out of Ken's mouth and into the air. Ken, somehow knowing what he was doing, slid out of the couch and onto his knees, positioning himself in front of Scott. This forced Scott to release his grip from Ken's cock. Not knowing where to take it next, Ken was relieved when Scott spoke to him. "I want you to get under my cock while I jack it off and then I'm gonna cum all over your face." Ken nodded, allowing Scott to let him know that he understood. He rested his body weight onto his elbow, cocking his head so he was under Scott's hard cock. Scott's hand went pumping quickly now, his forearms showing that there was furious work being done in there. "Oh yeah!" Scott said in a harsh whisper. His arm continued to jack his meat faster and faster. He told Ken he would cum four times before it was released from the shaft and out of the head. Ken caught it first in his hair, then on his forehead and over his eyelids. The second blast shot clear across his head and onto the coffee table. Ken, his mouth wide open, tongue sticking out like a kid in the rain, craned his neck to catch the next shot. It went straight in his mouth, and a very happy smile slowly crept its way on his face. "Oh, that feels so good," he sighed, his voice full of pleasure and utter delight. Ken lifted his head a little, propping his tongue on the bottom side of Scott's gushing cock. Scott's hand was still moving furiously on his rod, but he cut the distance down a little so Ken could work the moisture around. Still more shots came out, this time firmly dotting Ken's tongue and the roof of his mouth. A small drop found its way to Ken's nose. When the rage finally stopped, Ken's face was covered in a filmy white liquid. It was draped over his eyes, hair, forehead, mouth, cheeks and nose. He was licking what he could, then resorted to his hand to get the rest from his face. "How'd you like that?" Scott asked after Ken had cleared his face. After a long swallow, Ken replied, "I loved it." He leaned in to lick the cum from Scott's head. Scott found some on the back of his hand and allowed Ken to remove it as well. Ken stood up to his knees and rested both hands on Scott's knees. Scott placed his right hand atop Ken's left, and his left hand on Ken's head, feeling his hair between his fingers. "We aren't finished quite yet," he told Ken. An expression filled with confusion and curiosity took residence on Ken's face. "Fuck me," he demanded. Before Ken could speak, Scott was naked and on all fours on the couch. Climbing onto the couch, Ken worked his cock back into an erection with his hand. When it was hard and ready for action, Ken slid it into Scott's open ass. There was little resistance at first, but once Ken had entered his entire rod, Scott's ass relaxed a little and Ken was able to easily slide it in and out. "Nice and slow, nice and slow," Scott guided Ken. "Take it nice and slow." The right side of his face was pressed against the pillow, his eyes closed, mouth open. After a couple moments of silence, Scott spoke up: "Talk to me. I want you to talk to me real dirty." Ken did as he was told, and was surprised to hear thr roughness in his voice when he said: "Oh, your as feels so great! Nice, tight ass! Nothing like fucking up the ass! Oh, yeah. My balls are gonna burst with cum when I'm ready, baby. You're gonna feel it shoot inside of you and it's never gonna stop. Like a big hose putting out a fire. Yeah...!" "Fuck me! Fuck me real hard! Don't ever stop!" Scott chimed in with some dialogue of his own. His voice wasn't as low as Ken's had been, but rather a high and innocent one. "I want some of that candy rain! Oh, yeah, give it to me!" Without notice from either of the sex-starved young men, Ken's pace was gradually increasing. His legs rocked him back and forth as he thrust his cock deeper and harder into Scott's backside. Before too long, Ken was calling the same thing Scott had called only moments ago: "Here...I...cum!" A hot blast from the pole inside of Scott was suddenly released into his body. Scott recoiled, then leaned into Ken. Ken's body shook -- it was the greatest orgasm of his life. He felt tears in the backs of his eyes, but they left shortly thereafter. "Oh, thank you," Scott whispered to both himself as well as Ken. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!" His voice trailed off, and he seemed to be falling asleep when Ken pulled out from Scott's ass. Scott then rose to his knees, and Ken wrapped his arms around his Bare chested torso. He held him for a full two minutes. Two wonderful minutes, Scott thought to himself. As Ken was releasing him, Scott happened to glance up at the wall-clock: nine-fifty three. They dressed -- Ken only in his boxer shorts; he was heading to bed now -- and Scott lay down on the couch. On his way to his bedroom Ken stopped the movie (it was already over), popped out the tape and searched for the case. "Keep it," Scott said after taking notice of Ken. Ken spun around. "What?" "Keep it," he repeated. "I've seen that one dozens of times. I think I'll get a new one soon anyway. An open-mouthed smile came over Ken's face. He found the case to the movie, slid the tape in it, and held it against his hip. "Thanks," he said, the smile still on his face. Thinking it was the right thing to do, Ken walked over to him and pecked him on the lips. Scott held him there, savoring the kiss. Ken raised his head, smiled at him again, and slowly retreated to his room. When he heard the door close, Scott reached behind him and turned off the table lamp. The room went dark, and less than ten minutes later he was asleep. He woke up when his shoulder was jerked. He opened his eyes, finding Ken's mother hovering over him. It gave him a scare, then he calmed down. The wall-clock now read eleven-fifteen. "We're home," she said. He sat up, shaking the "sleepies" from his head. "You can go home now." He swung his feet over the edge of the couch, waited until they found the floor, and stood up. "Thanks a lot for watching him for us," Mr. Shay called from the kitchen. He was pouring himself a glass of ice water. "Not at all," Scott said wearily. "I enjoyed it." "He didn't hurt himself, did he?" Mrs. Shay asked. "No," Scott replied. "We just ... watched TV is all. He went to bed at about nine." She smiled at him. Scott strolled over to the door, casually picking up his bag. His hands were sliding along the door knob when Mrs. Shay asked if he'd finished his homework. "Yeah," he said nodding. "Got all of it done." He turned the knob, opened the door, and stood on the porch. "If you ever need me again," he said from the lawn, "don't hesitate to ask." Mrs. Shay, a little confused, smiled and shut the door gently. When she turned around her husband was bent over the coffee table, inspecting something on the surface of it. "What is it dear?" she asked. "Nothing," he replied. "Ken must have spilled some milk on the table or something." Mrs. Shay shrugged her shoulders and went to bed. Mr. Shay stood up, then bent back down. He wiped a finger in the unknown substance, brought it to his mouth. He spat it out. "Ew, gross!" A second glance at it told him he would clean it in the morning. He turned away from the table, turned off the light and went to bed. Copyright (C) Jack Mioff 1997-98