Gay Erotic Stories

The work he did on crumpled fenders was impressive. I saw several of the cars come into the shop and saw them when they left. He was an artist with Bondo and sheet metal. I bragged on his work. He liked that. He needed that. We became friends.

He only worked when the garage had body work for him. Sometimes that was only a couple of days a week and he was giving all he could spare to his wife for their little girl. Yeah, he was broke and therefore vulnerable. He was also one of the few guys actually surprised when I told him I was gay. It was genuine. I know fake when I see it. After I told him I felt him withdraw over a period of days. He didn’t make a big thing of it; he just grew less friendly and more distant. Then I noticed if I caught him at home, on his dad’s front porch, he was as friendly and cheerful as ever. Oh, Okay … I finally got it. The guys at the garage were giving him a hard time about his “buddy”, the gay mailman. It happens. So I began to keep my cool at the garage, stayed away from him, but continued to visit with him when I found him at home. The thing was, I got along great with the other guys where he worked and finally one of them told me they had ragged on Charlie about us being “tight” and Charlie puffed up. The guys even apologized to me for causing trouble. They didn’t expect Charlie to react so strong. They were just kidding him.

Two mechanics and a clean-up man and Wallace, the owner, were the whole crew and they had a lot more street smarts than Charlie. While Charlie had spent his years in the Army, these guys had learned to survive in the melee of the gutters and alleys. All of them knew I was gay long before I told Charlie. Hell, they even flirted with me, teased me. So I kept going by there and talking to Milton, the clean-up man. He was especially friendly, a big and laughing good time guy that kept asking me when we was going to get together and hit some bars. He had no problems; he was looking for a good time and a chance to get into my wallet. We joked about it every day. He started out pricing his dick at a hundred bucks a night, to much jeers from the rest of the crew, but came down after a while to sixty, then quickly down to fifty. I told him, in front of his buddies, I’d give him five bucks and a couple of beers but that was about all he was worth. That got a round of laughs and Wallace called, “He’ll put out for the beer; Don, don’t waste the five bucks on him!”

Then one of the mechanics (the fat and dumb one) called, “Hell, I’ll buy YOU a beer, Don, if you’ll blow me!”

Right, it was becoming a burlesque act. I laughed with them good naturedly but didn’t accept any offers that day.

At any rate, Charlie was learning. He stopped turning the cold shoulder at work and we eventually got back to talking about his work, how he would do this one, how great that last one looked. He relaxed and I think they stopped kidding him about me.

I went by the garage one evening after work to get my oil changed and only Wallace and the older mechanic (can’t remember his name) and Milton (clean-up) were left there. I had a six pack and I passed around the beer and we had a great time laughing and joking. Wallace wouldn’t even let me pay for the oil service. Then Milton asked me for a ride home (three blocks away) and we took off.

Couple of days later Charlie was waiting for me on the front porch. His conversation was slow and rambling until he finally got around to it. “Milton told everybody at the shop you blew him.” He was upset, it showed.

“Yeah? Did he say what he did for me?” I grinned.

“No.” He’s curious. “You saying he blew you, too?”

“I’m not saying anything, just asking. Don’t matter what he tells, I’m not telling anything at all. I never do. Shit, that would put me out of business, huh?” I laughed, kept it light and amusing.

“Says you paid him twenty bucks, too.” his eyes cut sideways at me, checking.

“And you guys believed him?” I really laughed.

Charlie grinned. “Nawh, nobody believed that, man!”

“Well, I’m not saying I wouldn’t pay twenty if there was some give and take, you know? But twenty just to suck his dick? That’s an insult!”

“You saying he did it, he blew you? I knew he would, that pecker head!”

“No, I didn’t say that, Charlie. I never tell, remember? Never, but anything you can pry out of Milton … well, believe what you want to believe.”

“But Milton, he’s not gay, is he?” Now he’s really serious.

“Milton? Hell no. But he’s not a perfectionist like you, Charlie. You’d be a happier man if you could forgive yourself for not being perfect, you know?” I guess that was a little too personal. He didn’t much like it, anyway. He sat and talked for a while but it was the weather and stuff, empty.

Maybe a week later he was grinning, I could see he was about to say something he was nervous about. He built up his courage. “So, when you gonna stop by after work and bring me a beer, huh? Do I have to change your oil or what?”

“I’d like that. Your dad wouldn’t mind?”

“He’s staying over at his sister’s house tonight. I’ll be here all evening by myself.” His voice was tight and controlled. This is a major, MAJOR step for Charlie, inviting me to his house. “I just figured we could sit around, talk, you know. After work, you wouldn’t be in such a hurry …” He was having a difficult time of it.

“And you figured you could use a free beer or two?” I gave him a straight excuse.

He laughed. “Hell yeah, I can always use a free beer!”

I laughed, too, but I gave him that look … the one says, “There’s more to this”, but I didn’t push it.

So we had our evening together. We sat on the porch until after dark but moved inside when the mosquitoes hit us. It was when we were sitting on the couch that Charlie got nervous. We hadn’t even been talking about sex, we were talking about kung fu movies and Bruce Lee … but the intimacy of our situation was not lost on him. He turned on every light in the room and sat way down on the other end of the couch. His eyes kept dodging mine and he just wouldn’t relax.

I finally stood up and offered a hand shake, “I think I better be leaving, now, buddy.” I gave him a little false laugh. “We already finished the beer, anyway … no reason to stay, right?”

“Huh?” He quickly stood and held onto my hand. “Don’t feel like that, man … I didn’t really ask you over just for free beer! I’m not like that, I … we … I just like talking to you. Always enjoy it when you stop by … you make me feel better, man.”

“But now we’re alone together and you’re nervous … thinking I might grab your dick, right?” I grinned but I was serious and he knew it.

He dropped my hand. “No, man … I ain’t …” Then he grinned and his eyes finally came to rest on mine. “Okay. Yeah. I was wondering if that’s what you was going to do … I don’t know about shit like that so I don’t know what to expect …”

“Relax; I really got to go, okay? And I’d never just pounce on you, Charlie. I’m afraid I’d get my ass kicked!” I laughed, kept it light.

“Aw, I wouldn’t really hurt you or nothing.”

“No? So what if I did grab you … what would you do?”

“I don’t know …” He shrugged. “But I wish you wouldn’t try. I don’t go in for none of that shit … it ain’t my thing, you know?”

“Yes, buddy. I know it ain’t your thing … come on, give me some credit. I never met a straighter man than you, Charlie. You’re a real boy scout. Hell, I bet you wouldn’t even sell that dick for a million dollars!”

He had to grin. “Shit. If you got a million bucks I’ll turn gay!”

I just laughed. “Yeah, any man would. Too bad I ain’t got it on me. Make it twenty and we got a deal!”

“Nawh!” He gave my shoulder a friendly slap, “Not tonight, anyway. But I was wondering if you’d offer me money, I really thought about that.”

“You did? Did that worry you?”

“Yeah, I kept wondering what I’d do if you offered to buy it … I’m always broke, looking for a few bucks …” He watched me. I was losing my grin, went kind of serious.

“You know something, Charlie? I’ll be honest with you … I don’t want your dick if I have to buy it, understand? I won’t be offering you fifty or whatever you got in mind because I like you too much. That would pretty well wreck our friendship, wouldn’t it?”

“Aw, don’t say that …” He ducked his head, looked away.

“Yeah, it would. Look, I know you’re having a tough time with finances right now … but that will change. Things will get better … See? Money don’t mean that much to me because I got a good job, I don’t need much to live … I just hate to see you doing without …Let me help, okay? But just as a friend. Here…” I pulled out my wallet, “Will twenty get you by until payday?”

His face came back to me …”What … uh, you ..?”

“Thirty?”

“No, wait … You’d loan me the money?”

“I don’t loan money to my friends, I just share what I got.” I shoved the bills into his shirt pocket. “It ain’t much but it’ll buy you some cigarettes, a couple of beers. You won’t feel so down if you got a couple of bucks in your pocket … Now I really got to go.”

He was quiet, walked me out to my truck. He took my hand, again, shook it slow and firm. “I don’t know what to say, Don. I never had a friend like you … all this time I was thinking you just wanted my dick …thanks; this will keep me going all week. Payday I’ll buy the beer if you’ll come back over, okay?”

“Okay, great …” I leaned in close so I could speak low, “but I still want your dick!”

He grinned, embarrassed but somehow gratified, “Say you do?”

“Yeah, sure. But only when you’re ready to give it to me … just because we’re friends, see?”

“I don’t know, man …”

“Just think about it, that’s all I ask. I’m not going to pressure you , ever! But when you think you’re ready to give it a try, you’ll let me know, right?”

“But, man … that’s asking …”

“Not now… I gotta go … forget it, okay? It ain’t you, buddy. Sorry. Forget it.”

I waved from the road and he stood there looking after me. He wouldn’t forget it, I knew Charlie too well to believe that.

Payday came and when I stopped by the garage he reminded me of our “date”. You coming by the house tonight, right? Pop’ll be there. I already told him you might come over… there’s this movie coming on at eight, “Blood Fist?”

“Yeah, that’s one of my favorite flicks! Sure. See ya later.”

“I’ll get the beer.” He assured me. He needed to get back some equality, best he could. I knew how his head worked. “Great! Okay if I bring a pizza?”

“I guess… yeah. But …”

“It’s bring it or stop and eat before I get there … I gotta eat, right?” I shrugged.

“Sure whatever.” he let it go.

...............................................

“Damn, you could feed an army … you must be hungry, huh?” He laughed when he saw the three large, flat boxes.

“I’ve seen you eat, wanted to make sure there was enough … ha, Pop! How ya doing?”

“Damn, that smells good!” The old man crowded behind Charlie. I had to wait for them to back off so I could get into the house.

I always liked Charlie’s dad. I’d known him before Charlie came to stay with him. Several times I’d stopped on his porch to talk, rest my tired feet. He was always funny and friendly. Matter of fact, I think he flirted with me a little bit back then. He always had a double meaning to whatever he said, anyway… kept me wondering just what he had in his old grizzled head.

“We gotta invite this guy more often; Charlie … anybody that brings me food is a welcome friend!” He laughed. “Course I know you didn’t bring this to me, son … just...”

“Sure and I did; a whole pizza for each of us. Eat fast before Charlie finishes his, hate to fight him over the leftovers.”

“He can eat, sure enough! Don’t see how he stays so skinny much as he puts away … I'd have a belly out to here…”

“He works it off, ought to see him sweating in the garage, like a sweat box in there all summer!”

Charlie brought out a round of beer and we cleared the coffee table, spread our cheap feast. Charlie and his dad took opposite ends of the couch, their regular places, I figured. I squeezed into the middle, between them. Short couch, tight fit, nice.

The overwhelming masculine atmosphere soaked into me and lifted me, eased me in old quilt comfort. Slurped food and the rattle of beer cans on the table, the sweet-bitter aroma of stale cigarettes and overflowing ashtrays, the warm brush of a hairy arm, tight pressed, denim covered thigh and the deep, rumbling mutters of pleasure at the TV play-acted violence defined us, aligned us, gave us tribal shared satisfaction and I hardly gave a second to thank God for the pleasures of living it was so absorbingly flowing in my heart.

Summer sunset reddened the room and finally left us in brown shadows before the flickering campfire of the TV. We settled into stupefied, placid surrender under a fresh blue cloud of tobacco smoke and thrilled to the final justifying and bloody vengeance of a man for his brother’s death. Charlie had no thought of his thigh pressing to mine as the final blows landed over exaggerated sounds. The night came on us male and low pulsing, silent echoes of brave warriors enfolded us.

Pop grabbed my leg when the credits came up, gave me a hard shake. “Thanks for my supper, Donnie … much ‘preciated … ain’t had pizza in a while. Good to have you in our house, too. Blessing for Charlie to have a decent friend, and me, too… always thought the world of you, son. Sensible fellow; always said so!”

“Hey, Pops …” He really embarrassed me, genuine admiration always does.

“Hate to leave good company but I promised a little lady up the street I’d amble over to sit with her on her porch. You come back to see us anytime, you hear?” He used my leg to push himself up and I tried to stand, to see him off but he shoved me back down. “No, no. Keep your seat … don’t lock me out, Charlie… no telling how long I’ll be, women is not predictable, ever!”

After the screen door slammed and we listened to Pop’s shuffled feet on the steps we sat still, our bodies pressed together without the necessary excuse. Then Charlie slow pushed up and clicked on the lamp. “Ready for another?” He held up his empty.

“Uh …” I shaded my eyes against the glaring light, “Nawh, guess I ought to be going. What you got? Two left? I’ll leave ‘em for you, not pump you dry.”

“Got another whole six-pack…it’s still early!” he showed disappointment.

“I’ll drink one more if we can sit on the porch, cooler … getting hot in here!” I gave him a grin and ran a palm across my lap.

“Man!” he chuckled, “Sure, I’m sweating, anyway.”

I went on out to the porch, stripped off my damp tee shirt and enjoyed the cool feel of the swing on my bare back. He came out and brought the beer, glanced at me with an uncertain eye but took off his shirt, too.

The low and whispered squeak of the swing was like an old lullaby, warmly remembered.

“You been quiet tonight,you okay?” He tilted his face towards me, jutted his chin to abuse any idea he was sensitive or concerned.

“No complaints at all. Had a great evening, you want to know. Can’t tell you how much I liked it… being here is great. I love the way your house feels, comforting and welcome. Don’t get that much.” I spoke low as him. Voices a murmur, neighbors maybe too near. “Kinda lonely round my place, ‘specially at night.”

“Wondered about that … time or two. Why ain’t you already got somebody?”

“Shit. Who’d have me?” I sat up and made the swing squeal a protest. “Got no room for more, I gotta piss, man … been holding it too damn long, thought I was gonna leave but …”

“Damn fool, why didn’t you say? Come on, me too.”

Followed him down a narrow hallway, made a couple of crooked turns; ancient house, the bathroom was a former back porch, I thought. We passed an open door to a bedroom with a lamp beside the bed glowing pale yellow light over a tight fitted sheet. “Your room?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Come on, in here.” He reached inside another door and flipped on the light, a forty watt bulb far overhead. He squeezed back against the wall, allowed me to pass and he would have retreated, I’m sure, but I asked, “This where you grew up? This house, you know?”

“Yeah, since I was ten. We moved here from Tuscaloosa … Pop with the railroad. Seems big, now, it was kinda small with me and my four brothers.” He chuckled. He was still there, behind me, waiting.

I savored the intimacy of peeing with him in the room. The skin of my dick felt tender, alarmingly sensitive in my fingers. The splash of my urine was grossly loud and heavy.

He laughed at me. “Been saving it back all night, ain’t cha? Sounds like a horse pissing!”

“Beer, you know… I’m living in my old home place, too. Did I tell you? I bought the house from my mother when she remarried, after Daddy died.”

“No, you didn’t tell me that… never talk about your family …”

“Well, I didn’t know you had four brothers, either.” I tucked it back inside and turned, still zipping up, gave him a huge smile. “That’s a load off my mind! Whew!”

“Yeah, sounded like it.” He grinned and stepped past me. I gave him room but stayed near. His shoulder brushed mine as he popped his snap and his zipper purred down. His back curved in that beautiful way men do and his shoulders slumped in the naturally graceful arc, neck back, chin up … he looked at me over his shoulder. “You got a brother, right?”

“Two, one older, one younger.” My glance took in his face, the way his hair fell over his brow.

“Just it reminded me, here in the bathroom … we used to bathe together, even pissed together … two or three of us crowding around the commode … ever do that?”

“Sure … me and my older brother, we took our bath together for years; slept together, too.”

I watched his eyes, saw the sentimentality, the softness, the slow understanding, connections being made, and associations.

“We used to beat off together, too.” He turned his face away, looked down as he shook off the last drops. “Never told anybody that … but, well, you know …”

“Thanks, buddy. Just, well, thanks.”

“Thought you’d want to know … I ain’t perfect, not at all. Don’t I know it?” He stuffed himself back inside as he turned towards me, allowed me a glimpse of brown and wrinkled flesh as it retreated. No accident. His eyes searched mine in a quick, probing flash.

“Thanks for that, too … nice cock, buddy!” I grinned, made it cute and funny, let the tension seep out. He shrugged, grinned.

“Pencil dick, long but skinny, looks ugly to me …” His eyes kept watching, waiting.

“Looked pretty good to me.”

“Ah, you shouldn’t be looking at it, anyway!” he grinned, chuckled.

I didn’t point out he showed it for my inspection. “Can I see your room? Do you mind?”

“Sure… nothing to see.”

We stopped at the door and I squeezed past him, turned and studied the sparse furnishings, the faded walls, the yellowed shade covering the window.

“You’re very neat; I knew you would be …. No dirty clothes on the floor, no shoes tossed loose… your bed tight as a marine bunk …”

“Can’t help it, shit bothers me, ‘specially in my bedroom … Army trained me, I guess.”

“Everything in order in your bedroom, nothing dirty, nothing loose about it …” I gave him a meaningful grin.

“Looks that way, don’t it?” He turned away, moved down the hall. “Come on, enough of the psychology shit,” an edge of impatience in his voice.

He was in the kitchen, opening a cabinet. "Somewhere … yeah, here; I got it last Christmas, never opened it.” He brought out a pint bottle of dark bourbon, broke the seal. “Let’s kick the beer up a little, okay?” He took a long pull as he watched me over the raised bottle. “You game?” He offered it to me.

“Hell, I’m a gamey son of a bitch, man!” I took it and put my lips where he had warmed the opening. Sweet fire flowed over my tongue, snaked down my throat and exploded in my belly.

I squinted up my face and growled, shook all over in a spasm of delightful semi-pain.

He laughed. “Easy dude … that’s some strong shit! … gimme some more!” He took it and hit it again, hard. “Ah! Ah! Damn, that’s good stuff!”

I was breaking a sweat and Charlie's skin had a glow, a shine... “Let’s go back to the porch, left my beer and smokes.” He agreed, followed me with a hand clapped tight on my bare shoulder.

“Lead me, I’m going blind!” he laughed.

“Probably jerked off too much, sure ain’t the whisky! That’s good for you.”

I settled low in the swing and he sat up, stretched his arm across the back behind me and his fingers tickled my shoulder. I leaned an elbow on his thigh as I lit my cigarette, left it there for the pleasant contact. He wasn’t pulling away from it. He put the bottle on the floor and we sipped beer, smoked and talked low in the dark. I leaned back so my neck came to rest on his arm. He left it there.

The sight of his wide, naked chest so close to me in the dim light of the corner streetlight, wonderful, personal, too bluish in cast to look real. More like a statue to admire. I reached over to stroke across a rough patch of scar under one nipple. He kept his head up, didn’t look down.

“How’d you do that?”

“Tripped over my damn feet, fell on some barbed wire … my own fault, really. Not a badge of courage, anyway. What happened to your belly? The long scar, goes down below your belt …?”

I never saw him look down there, surprised me. “Appendix operation, back in high school, still itches sometimes.” I scratched at it, as reminded.

“Oh, thought you took a knife blade. Look’s wicked, mean.” He made it sound nice.

“You got no tattoos? I always wanted one … never got around to it.”

“Yeah, I do; two of ‘em. Celtic cross on my leg,” he raised a leg and touched the side of his calf, “and a little devil on my butt.” He grinned down at my upturned face.

“You don’t!”

“I do!”

“Let me see it.”

He glanced around. “Not out here, in the house, sometime. Okay?”

“Couldn’t see it in the dark, anyway … yeah, but soon, not sometime.”

“If you want … now?” he sat up.

“Yeah, sure… another beer while we’re up?” I stood up with him and his arm slid down my back, paused to steady himself at my beltline. “Man! Whoa.”

“Whisky kicking in.” I grinned. “Hell yeah.” He leaned down and picked up the bottle. “Let’s fire it up, again.” He took a pull, passed it to me and held onto my back as I tilted it up … “steady”, he warned when I swayed back.

“Wow!” I worked my numb jaw open and closed.

“Yeah, I know! Let's kill it.” He grinned, leaned into my shoulder. He took back the bottle and turned it up for a long pull, passed it back to me. I wasn't breathing to good but managed another strong shot.

“Come on.” His hand gripped the back of my neck and gave me a tender shake.

Continued in Part 2