Gay Erotic Stories

Things were moving a bit too fast for comfort here… As my mind backed off my initial excitement, my giddy schoolboy glee began to be replaced my practicality. Certainly there were lots of things to work out…and all that would just have to come later. I convinced myself that at this point, worry was just that—unproductive energy—I think some guru said something like that, somewhere in the past.

I finished my business in the toilet, washed up and headed for the bedroom. As I changed from my office clothes into my favorite pair of shorts, I might as well have been struck by a bolt of lightening… Jesus, God—Rodrigo!

What would I tell him, how would I handle this? He’d been special—hell he still WAS special! What it things didn’t work out with Carter? Was I doing the right thing, making the right choice? What would I say? “Oh, by the way, Rodrigo, I’ve met somebody else who’s more my type.” But what exactly was my type…Rodrigo surely fit the bill too. I felt like a two-timing son-of-a-bitch all of the sudden.

How would anyone understand what had happened from my point of view. What if Carter found out about Rodrigo? How would he react? He’d already had his own lover problems. Was he just having a fling with me on the “rebound”? Was this whirlwind courtship genuine, or just a matter of convenience and companionship? Then again, I hadn’t known Rodrigo all that long either. And then there was the issue of his Latin upbringing… His family issues and attitudes—and the fact that they lived locally—down in Miami--s, when it rains…it pours!

How in the hell had I gone from being a single guy living for all basic purposes an lonely existence, almost a hermit…to a damn two-timing sex whore? No, that’s really being too hard on myself, I decided. But still how would things shake out? For that matter, it’d been sort of nice and I’d gotten used to setting my own routines, and going about my business as I saw fit—only having myself to please. Did I really WANT another relationship?

I lay on the bed and stared blankly at the TV while all these thoughts crowded my head. Somewhere along the line, thankfully I fell asleep. I was not what you’d describe as a consummate procrastinator, but tomorrow maybe things would have a way of starting to sort themselves out.

Morning came soon enough and my body clock was right back on schedule. I flipped the channel for the early morning network news at 4:30 am and was well into half way through the program, when the fog lifted and my thoughts returned to last night and Carter’s impending arrival…4-5 days away—or maybe even less. I lay there paying little attention to the rest of the network news, followed by the first half hour of the early local news. Nature called, so I got up and headed for the toilet. Once drained, I decided to just go ahead and get showered, and maybe go into the office early. I’d get there early and maybe work would take my mind off things, or help things work themselves out. Also, I wouldn’t run the risk of running into Rodrigo in the parking lot.

Shit—just listen to me. Now I was actively thinking about avoiding Rodrigo—someone who I’d been head-over-heels giddy for just days earlier. Yeah, maybe that was it—I was just fascinated or flattered that he found me attractive… After all there was a considerable age difference…yet he was mature for his age…but he was so different too. But then again, maybe Carter was jumping ship from one relationship and just looking for some type of an anchor…that would be me?

I got out of the shower, dried off and dressed. My stomach was in knots and I wasn’t at all hungry. Normally I can’t eat first thing in the morning…and brother—today was NO exception. If anything, I’d get something at the office when the troops made their normal breakfast run to Mickey D’s or where ever.

I made it to the office in record time…less than 10 minutes I figured. I hit all the lights green and pulled into the parking lot—an empty parking lot—a 6:15 am. It was till dark. I entered our offices, punched in my alarm code, started a pot of coffee, and headed to my office. I flipped on the lights, sat down and turned on my monitor, entered my log on passwords and set about reading my emails. It’s truly amazing how damn many junk emails I get…just like everyone else. I’ve often thought it a good thing that I was content with my body parts and sexually secure about my dick size and stamina. Here were all these goofballs hocking every type of Viagra, Celebrex, Cialis, Xanax, Ambien, Canadian online drugs, off-shore remedies, penis pumps or enlargement techniques, or something called a Jackrabbit Vibrator. Lessons on how to please her… Jesus will it ever end? I wondered just how many guys these emails had turned into sniveling basket cases—insecure performers—or even functionally impotent partners—poor bastards!

I’d long ago managed to convince myself that I had no problems, even though until just recently I’d not had anything other that self-gratifying solo performances. I’d decided that if it pleased me—I could share the same with any prospective partner. And besides I could still pee standing up!

I was sort of chuckling to myself as I deleted page after page of these come-on’s when I became aware of some headlights in the parking lot. They were generally aimed at my office windows and were flashing low-beam to high-beam. I turned around in my chair and stared out the window. After a couple more alternate low-beams, I made out the make of the car…it was Rodrigo’s. He must have seen me turn around, because he shut off the lights and walked towards the building’s rear entrance. This would take him right by our back doorway.

I got up from my chair and headed to our back doorway and waited for the inevitable knock. It came just as I cleared the kitchen/lunchroom doorway. I opened the door and let him in. “What are you doing here so early?” I asked him.

“My pager went off, I got called in. There some sort of computer glitch I guess,” came his reply. “So what are you doing here so early?”

“I’m still closing out the month,” I fumbled (not bad) “I encountered a few problems and also need to develop some new spreadsheet programs. I was just laying at home thinking about it, and decided I might as well get started on it.”

I just looked at Rodrigo. He looked tired, not his perky, bubbly self. Maybe he was just not awake yet; maybe he hadn’t had much sleep. Yet I sensed something was definitely wrong…more than the possible irritation at having been called in. “Everything okay with you?” I asked. “You look like you had a rough night, or something.”

“That’s not what I’d call very funny,” Rodrigo fired back. There were tears welling up in his eyes. He looked on the verge of crying.

I was now concerned, “What’s wrong Rodrigo? What’s happened?”

“I ca…can’t talk about it now…” his voice faltered. “I go to my office now…can’t talk with you now; we’ll talk later.” With that said Rodrigo backed out of the door and headed towards the bank of elevators.

“Oh…okay, call me when you can,” I yelled across the lobby addressing Rodrigo’s backside. He disappeared in the elevator without another word of acknowledgement. This left me to wonder. Surely there was no way he’d discovered anything going on…there was just no way. Yet I suffered through the rest of the morning—right up to just before lunch. My phone rang. Fortunately I answered in the normal business fashion.

Carter’s voice cheerily said, “Howdy, and a fine good morning it is! Just callin’ to let ya’ll know that I’m going to be packed up and on the road by tonight. I told “Justine”—you know—Justin last night when I got home. She’s pissed off and decided he’d help me pack today—even stayed home from work—all for lil’ old me! Go figure! Anyways, I’ll be trottin’ your direction by tonight. He wants me out of the house and gone. The bitch’s even gone out to get me some boxes for my stuff.”

“Chris, you’ve got another call on line 4,” came Mary Ann’s voice through my intercom.

“Carter, sorry man, I’ve gotta go, I’m expecting a call. Give me a call when you’re on your way. Call my cell, or at home tonight, okay? See ya soon, drive careful.”

“Thanks, I always drive “friendly”, Carter replied and hung up.

I picked up the other call, “Chris? Sorry about this morning, I’ve been working on this damn program all morning. I think I’ve finally isolated the problem. Have you had lunch yet? We need to talk.” Rodrigo said earnestly.

“Uhh, no. I haven’t had lunch yet…been busy and on the phone all morning. Good thing I came in early I guess. You free?” I was worried at his unusual tone. Something definitely WAS bugging him, and after just getting off the phone with what I hoped wasn’t the reason…

“No, give me an hour or so if that’s okay.”

“Fine with me, just call me when you’re ready and we’ll go,” I replied. Rodrigo said nothing more and just hung up. I sat there for a minute, still holding the receiver. I looked up and Mary Ann was in my doorway…maybe fishing for something.

“What’s with all the phone calls this morning?” she asked as she handed me a set of papers I’d sent to the printer, but had forgotten about. I shrugged my shoulders and took the printouts from her, dismissing her without volunteering anything. She took my cue, turned and left, then as an afterthought turned and asked, “You want anything for lunch, I’m headed to Wendy’s.”

“No thanks, I’m not really hungry, maybe I’ll get something a bit later. Thanks anyway,” I replied. The fact was—right then I wasn’t hungry at all. My stomach was in knots. Things were closing in on me, and I felt a headache coming on.

An hour or so later, my phone rang again. It was Rodrigo. “You okay with going out now? I’m not very hungry, but I’d better eat.” What? Rodrigo’s got a stomach like a bottomless pit—he’s always hungry. Something’s definitely up.

“Yeah, I’ll just meet you by the back door,” I said and hung up the phone. I finished the email I was writing, and headed out. I met Rodrigo coming out of the men’s room. He looked better, but wasn’t smiling.

“You feeling any better?” I asked.

“No really,” Rodrigo confessed. I didn’t correct his English.

“I’ll drive then, where to?” I asked.

“I don’t care,” was all he said.

We got in my car and headed out of the parking lot. I took the customary left turn towards the majority of eating places. “I’m not really hungry anyway, but how about that pub you like?” I figured it was quiet there and if there was any significant amount of talk that was going to happen…that would be the best place…the most private.

“Okay,” was all he said.

We sat down and ordered. He remained silent for a couple of very long minutes, and then he spoke, rather he just blurted it out. “My news is no good. Grandmama is very sick, she had a…how you say…a stroke. I have to leave tonight…my family are all going to Panama City. I told them no, but my father insists. We leave Miami tonight.”

“How is she? How long will you be gone?” I asked.

“She very bad, I think. No move anything yet, no speak either.” He struggled.

“Anything I can do for you?” I asked as a courtesy.

“My job. They are not very happy with me leaving, but I told them—then you speak to father. They didn’t say anything more, so I guess it’s okay…but without pay—my own leave.”

I was worried for Rodrigo and genuinely saddened, but at the same time was relieved at find out what was so wrong. “How old is your grandmother?”

“She is 8…3…I figure. I have no see her in five years.” Rodrigo confessed. He looked down and continued just picking at his silverware.

We both said little else, and when the food came, we both just sort of picked at our portions. “So, any idea just how long you’ll be gone?” I asked, trying to start up a conversation again.

“No, it’s my father’s mother, so he says as long as it takes.” Rodrigo replied.

“I see, but what about your job? Can you take as much time off as you wish?”

“I think no, but father insists,” Rodrigo confessed. “I worry about that.”

“Yes, I think so. When we’ve lost one of our computer programmers, things seem to go to hell in a hand-basket…” I thought I might be adding to his misery then corrected course, “but then things sort of worked themselves out with our other two guys, I guess.”

Then Rodrigo reached across the table and placed his had on the top of mine, “I worry too, I will miss you…I will miss us,” he said with glassy brown eyes.

Now the lump in my throat was growing, “Yes I know, but family comes first sometimes…and this is apparently one of those times.” I looked at Rodrigo and now felt like a genuine gigolo—some kind of uncaring asshole…yet I was relieved—seeing a potential “out” or a “stay” in the execution of our special relationship. Yeah—execution—I felt that somehow I deserved to be shot.

“So, when are you leaving work today,” I asked as we readied ourselves to leave. I motioned to the waitress for the check, and insisted on paying for the tab—I wanted to—I needed to.

“I already left when I was done,” came his reply. He looked at me, tears now streaking down his right cheek.

I paid the check and Rodrigo hurriedly got up and made a direct beeline for the door, only too eager to get some fresh air. When we got in the car he put his hand on my leg, and then pulled himself to me. He was crying. “I’m so scared…I want to go…I don’t want to go. I’m afraid to go…but not to go against papa.”

He was hugging me…I was hugging him back. “Like I said, sometimes family must come first…it’s only a job…I’m sure they’ll understand…our company would.” I consoled him—or at least I thought. Maybe I was consoling myself too.

“I know…but I’ll miss you…so much.”

Now that really cut me to the “quick”. “Rodrigo, I’m not going anywhere…and I’m not planning on cashing in my chips before you get back,” I tried to interject a bit of foolhardy humor.

“Gash in chips? I no understand,” Rodrigo looked at me quizzically.

“What I mean is I’m not about to drop dead or anything…I’ll be here when you get back.” (Yeah, that would be the case…but maybe a different ‘me’…maybe an involved ‘me’, maybe an ‘attached me’—as in married.)

“Oh, I see,” Rodrigo brightened a bit.

Minutes later we were back at the parking lot, and I found myself sadly bidding Rodrigo good-bye and wishing his family a safe trip and his grandmamma a speedy recovery. There was no way I could bring myself to say anything more…anything more at all…and certainly no way humanly or humanely to bring up such a subject as Carter.

There were several people walking in the parking lot…those exercise freaks that for some reason like to walk around the parking lot after lunch or on their breaks. Before he left the car, Rodrigo squeezed my leg forcefully with a shaking hand, “I love you Chris…I thing about you always in Panama.” Then he bolted out the door without looking back, and ran to his car. Seconds later he was driving away…

Thankfully Rodrigo hadn’t looked back…he would have seen a desperately wounded animal—fighting to catch his breath—struggling to get air past the boulder in his throat.

When I’d composed myself…at least my breathing, I glanced at my watch. It was already 3:30 pm. I restarted the car, and headed for home. I couldn’t show my face to another soul. I just wanted to be alone. Yes—alone wasn’t such a bad idea.