Gay Erotic Stories

Warren was asleep on the couch while Wild Kingdom featured the life cycle of a green moth, fascinating stuff. He’d stripped down to his jock strap. His tee shirt and shorts lay on the rug beside the couch. He didn't get far inside the door. Just like a man. He was curled on his side, facing the back of the couch, his ass a gorgeously pornographic image between the framing white and sweaty straps. How unmanly! Does a real man display his ass for a gay room mate? How interesting, damn interesting! He rolled onto his back and groaned, stared at his lifted watch, “Ah, fuck!” He staggered to his feet and almost ran into me. He grabbed my arms to steady himself. Hmm, an actual touch of flesh to flesh? The rarest gift! “Hey. Mike … I’m late, sorry…” Then he wobbled into the bathroom as he stripped out of the restraining elastic triangle. “I gotta date!” He called, just to inveigle me into following him and watching him shower. It worked.

“A real girl date? I thought you were in love with Miss Mississippi?” I leaned on the door jamb. He left the shower curtain slightly open, talked while he soaped down.

“Yeah, I was, but she’s never at home … I phone again and again, no answer. What’s that tell you?” He lathered up his chest, his groin … he scrubbed with vigor. It bounced, wriggled.

“Maybe a family emergency, she’s staying at the hospital?” I offered.

“Nope, talked to her Mom. They don’t know where she’s been, she’s running around all the time. Her Mom is pissed, too. I’ve left messages, on her machine, all week …” He slightly squatted and scrubbed between his legs. “She’s found somebody new. No big surprise. I never figured she’d wait this long, not really. So that leaves me free, right? Until I know better, we’re broke up, right?”

“No, but … You sound glad?”

“Yeah, I guess. Long distance relationships are for shit, you know? I’m busting for some up-close and personal. Haven’t you noticed?” He laughed.

“Lusting for some what? Yeah, I’ve noticed, man. So you got a date already? Did you have a back-up girl waiting?” I turned away, couldn’t watch anymore. It hurt a little.

“Sure. I’m a dog, right?” his laughter again. I used to need it. “That girl, Susan, waits tables at the Metro Diner? You know I’ve been talking to her?”

“Blond Susan, with the big boobs? No, I didn’t notice.”

“So I called and she said early ‘cause she has to work later … What time it is, now?”

“Five fifteen.”

“Damn, I’m gonna be late! I went to sleep …oh, yeah, you was there.”

“When? Five thirty? You could call her… run some delay time?”

He came out, drying his hair with the towel. He swung loose. “Nawh man. I’ll just blame traffic. This time of day I’ll probably get stuck, anyway, should have left half an hour ago. Find me some clean socks and some khakis, okay? While I shave?”

“Sure, where?”

“Socks, top drawer … pants in the closet, man! And the brown loafers and the red shirt. My lucky shirt!”

“You want underwear and a tee shirt?” I called from his bedroom?

“Nawh, too hot.” he called back over the sound of water splashing in the sink.

I pulled open the wrong top drawer. This was gym gear … more jockeys, satin shorts and. Huh? Muscle magazines? I grinned at the traditional gay material. I suppose some straight men had to buy them, right? And a framed, autographed photo of a very fine looking boy signed … “forever, Glenn”. Hmmm. I’ll come back later, after he’s gone, right? The other top drawer contained socks by the dozen. You could hardly close the drawer! “Which khakis? The Duckheads?” I called.

“Yeah, fine. It don’t matter.” And the only red shirt in the closet, a deep red golf shirt with a green lizard on the breast.

“So why is it your lucky shirt?” I asked while he dressed.

“I was wearing it the night I finally nailed Gina!” he grinned.

“You finally… nailed …her?” I felt the word, rough in my mouth.

“Yeah, I never got to that part of the story, did I? Remind me sometime when I’ve got time.” He slid his feet into the brown loafers and tossed an arm around my shoulders, pulled me with him towards the door. “How do I look, okay?”

“Delicious! Stay home and I’ll eat you up!” I teased him, now.

“Thanks, man. See ya later, huh? Wait up?” He touched my cheek with just the right amount of casual affection. I think he’s done that before, practiced, easy.

“I’ll be here. Me and my M-TV, always waiting for you.”

He laughed as he danced down the steps, tossed a final wave without looking back. He knew I’d be watching, why look back?

Now, about forever Glenn …

Warren’s high school yearbook was on the shelf in his closet. Glenn Johnston was the quarterback while Warren was wide receiver, the team heroes. They took all-state in his senior year, I’d heard all about that game. Every picture of the team had Glenn with his arm around Warren’s neck or shoulders, always holding on. Warren seemed to be leaning away, uneasy. Every picture, there was a long note from Glenn inside the back cover that recounted the many great times they’d had, the “perfect” friendship, and it promised an eternal connection, signed, “Forever Glenn”. I wondered if Glenn was still waiting somewhere.

I stumbled across Gina, too. Hard to miss her with so many photos in the annual, all initialed and marked with girlish stars in purple ballpoint pen. She was homecoming queen and senior beauty, leader of the Student Prayer Group and chairperson of the Christian Tigers. Funny, but for a femme fatale as Warren described, she sure looked wholesome and sweet. She didn’t wear much make-up, if any, and her hair was natural and just short of her shoulders. The beauty was in her sincere and open smile. There was not a trace of the strutting tease he recalled. She looked like a modest, slightly shy but confident small town girl, a natural beauty that had not quite discovered the power of her looks. Her clothes were, to put it kindly, J C Penny. I expected denim mini-skirts and halter tops, nothing like this. Gina, too, had written a long note to be remembered. She got the inside front cover. She also recalled wonderful times together and a fabulous senior year. She did not, however, promise forever. She regretted they would be going to different colleges and hoped they could remain friends and keep in touch. She signed it with the warm and platonic: Your friend, Gina. Gee, what a saucy little minx, huh?

I hoped he was lying. I really hoped he didn't “nail” her. I didn’t even want to hear that story.

I did want to hear about forever Glenn but I was sure I’d never hear the truth of it. I could read enough truth in his note and in his pictures. There was the guy who first talked “love and marriage” to Warren, I knew that for a fact! Scared the shit out of him, didn’t it? What did he do for Warren, a blow job or two? Throw him the ball whenever he was open? Make him look like a superstar to the class? Why did he believe they would always be together? Who promised that to Glenn? No, this is a story I’ll never get the facts of. So why did Warren take a room with a gay room mate? Did he miss that close male bond?

Maybe I’m all wrong. Why try and make every straight guy a closet gay, huh? Why do we do that? So he had a buddy who loved him, he decided it was way too close and ducked out. That’s straight, right? And maybe the sweet and unavailable Gina was the temptress of his dreams simply because she WAS unavailable. Not a big stretch. Just leaves one question, why did he want to “nail” me so bad? Is it just the hunter in him? The competitive nature? I said “no” so he has something to prove?

I put his things back where they were and closed the door quietly. You think you’ll get to know someone through their archives of memorabilia but they remain inscrutably human and unknowable. People are such tangled knots. I picked up his dirty jock from the bathroom floor and smelled the pocket of mesh. One more way we seek to know another person, through their most intimate response. Sometimes that’s the most telling method. The physical beast doesn’t lie, at least. It responds to things it likes, recoils from things it doesn’t like. Only the higher brain commits lies.

I only fall in love with straight men. That’s a kind of proof for me. If I fall in love with him, he’s straight. But if he loves me then I was mistaken, he’s just a confused gay man. It’s a pretty stupid personal philosophy but it sustains me, keeps the world in a certain logical order. I fear chaos. I’d rather know a terrible truth than know total uncertainty. I refused to be another guy waiting forever for Warren. I went to bed early. Depression makes me sleepy.

...................................... “Hey, I thought you was gonna wait up for me.” He was sitting on side of my bed.

“Huh? ...” I rose up, leaned against the headboard. Light from the bathroom made the hallway glow. “How’d it go? Were you really late... she get pissed?”

“No, it went good. I mean, I was late, sure … but she didn’t worry, said the traffic at five was always for shit. We drank some wine, ate a steak, talked. She’s nice, I like her.”

“Did the red shirt do it? You nail her?” I was fully awake, now and deceitful in my camaraderie, my light and casual flippancy.

“Nawh man. That's not… I just feel better in this shirt, more, uh, attractive.”

“Not just so you can score?” I brushed his hand away from my leg where it had strayed in the dark.

“Nawh, I really like Susan, you know? Not just a sex thang. I donno, maybe if she didn’t have to go to work … maybe then? But it was a good date, anyway. Food was good, a nice wine.”

“And you’re still horny so you thought maybe …” I pushed his hand back again.

“Yeah, maybe … I still look delicious? Right?” he chuckled. “Guess you can’t see me in the dark… No, really I just wanted to talk to you a minute. I kind of missed you being there when I got home. That’s what makes this a home that you’re here. I’m no good alone, man. I get crazy. Move over, okay? I wanna lie down, too. I always liked talking in the dark, especially in bed. Move over, I’ll stay on top of the covers, all right? I’m not trying to mess with you, just… Yeah, thanks. That’s better.”

“Long talks in bed with who? Girlfriends?”

“Yeah, sometimes…or with buddies. Spend the night, crash out after a party, you know? Didn’t you ever have buddies spend the night?”

“Not that many. I could probably count all the guys I actually slept with on one hand and I didn’t have sex with a couple for them, just slept.”

“Kind of anti-social, huh? You told me you never brought guys home and I wondered about that. Not criticizing or nothing, matter of fact I admire it. You always seem like you’re all right alone, don’t really need anybody. I’m not like that.”

“No, I’m not like that either, Warren. I know I’m never going to have the kind of partner I want so I work at doing without. It’s like a drunk on the wagon … he doesn’t drink but he thinks about it all the time and tries to live without it.”

“Why not? Why don’t you think you’ll get what you want? Hell, just lower your standards, man! You got a perfect guy in mind or what?” He snuggled down lower in the bed, turned his face to my shoulder. I waited a while, not sure if he really wanted an answer or it was rhetorical.

He shoved against my arm. “You go back to sleep?”

“No. I was just thinking about it … about how to explain it to you. See? Gay men are like women …”

“No shit?” I could hear the grin in his voice.

“Listen dammit. When I try and connect with another gay man it’s like a sister relationship … we’re both the same gender …”

“No shit?” No humor, this time. He was confused.

“A woman can like a gay man, be friends with a gay man but if she falls in love with him it’s sick, right? A woman doesn’t want a gay man, she wants a straight man, a real man … a man who is perfectly masculine, not another woman dressed up and acting like a man.”

“So you want a real man, I got it. But how do you measure a real man? What makes one man more real than another one?” He rose up on his elbow. I’d stirred up something of interest.

“Well, for one thing, he likes women … not men.” I spoke with bitterness.

“Oh, a real man can’t like other men? … he’s gotta be like a Don Juan type, likes to hang around with women all the time? I always thought those guys were kinda sissy, afraid of other men, looking to women for approval because other men don’t like them …” “No, he doesn’t have to be like that … not a ladies’ man, but he has to enjoy women, you know? He’s gotta want sex with women or he’s not a real man, right?”

“What you’re trying to say is if he likes men too much then he’s not a real man… go ahead, say it. You already ruled yourself out, when you said you were like a woman, ergo, not a real man. Right?”

“Right… as far as that goes…No, I’m certainly not a real man. And if a man likes me then …” I let it fade off. I hated to say the rest of it.

“Oh.” Warren lay back down, went very still. He was quiet so long I wondered if he’d gone to sleep. “I get it, now. You’ve set up the perfect no-win situation so you can forget about trying. I mean, what’s the point? You can’t win so why try, right? If a guy likes you then he’s toast. If you like a guy then he just better never smile your way or it proves you were wrong about him. So, that’s why you wanted a straight room mate, so he could come in, reject you and prove how right you were all along. I got it.”

“No, that doesn’t have anything to do with it…” I sputtered.

“Are you so sure?”

“Well, duh! It’s my head here, right? I’m in it.” He was pissing me off.

“Yeah, what a fucked up place to find yourself, huh? Mike?” He reached over and patted me on the chest, left his hand there and snuggled his face back into my shoulder. “Forget me; I’m not a real man… I like you too damn much. Let’s get some sleep, okay? Too much of that red wine--it’s caught up with me.”

We lay quiet a long, long time. I was sleepy, too, but his nearness had me tense and nervous. My bed really wasn’t big enough for two people, it was crowded. His thigh was right against mine and his heat seeped into me. My leg was sweating. When I shifted away he just curled closer. Startled me when he spoke again, I thought surely he was asleep by then. “This is nice, huh? I’ve been wanting to sleep with you every since the first night.” It was sleepy talk, not a joke. His words slightly mumbled and loose; his lips touched my shoulder with a whispered and soft, “Night, buddy.”

“Good night … buddy.” I’d settle for that. Not a lover but a close friend, a buddy.

When I woke Sunday morning he was under the covers. I crawled gently out the back side of the bed. I had to piss. He snored a little, not bad. His shoes, the red shirt and his pants were all on the floor beside the bed--everything but his socks. I looked down at my socks and smiled to myself. Guess we both had cold feet.

He woke while I brushed my teeth, came in and took a piss behind me. Yeah, I watched his ass in the mirror. He reached around me, grabbed the mouthwash and took a big gulp to gargle noisily. I moved to the side so he could spit. He ran a handful of water and scrubbed his eyes. I bent to rinse my teeth and he patted my butt. I jumped away. “See? No problem, you can’t fall for me because I’m not a real man. Let’s just go for recreational sex, okay?” He slid his arms around me and hunched his naked pelvis on my pajama covered ass.

“I had a dog that used to do that. Had him put to sleep. I need coffee.”

“You don’t need coffee, you NEED sex, Mike! Come on back to bed, we smell sweet and minty, now… we can breath on each other … don’t you feel this?” He shoved his hard dick into my ass. “Can’t you feel anything?”

“Yes, I feel that. Now put it away and grow up.” I shrugged him off and went to the kitchen. He followed and plopped down in a chair, still erect.

“Warren?” I sounded like my mother, I heard it. “Will you please put on some pants, at least?”

“Nope, I ain’t cold. I’m perfectly comfortable. I thought you liked to look at me, don’t I look delicious?” He leaned back and shoved his legs far apart.

“No. You look ridiculous!”

“Then laugh at me, okay? Who taught you to hate yourself, Mike? They did a hell of a job, man!”

I finished loading the coffee basket, flicked the red light switch on, and sat down across the table from him. “My mother, I guess. She was good at it. But it’s too early in the morning to play shrink, okay? You want eggs? It’s Sunday; I could do pancakes … with bacon, maybe …” I checked the fridge, “Yeah, with bacon?”

“Sure. Pancakes would be second best thing … you could have fresh sausage?” He grinned his little boy grin.

“Oh, cut it out, Warren. I’m so tired of that!” I flopped back down, propped my face in my hands. “You can’t resist a challenge, can you? From the time I said NO you’ve been going for it like a distance runner. You just can’t stand the rejection.”

“Oh, is that it? I thought I was just horny.”

“Whatever you want to believe, fuck it!”

He stood and stretched, yawned. His belly rippled with flat and tight muscles, his thighs lifted in layers of meat, slabs of well defined strength. God, he was so tall. When he flexed his arms up the biceps …

“Your coffee’s ready, buddy. I’m going back to bed. See ya later.” His high and taunt ass swayed into the hall. I heard the springs in my bed complain as he fell onto it. He would. What was the attraction of my bed? Why couldn’t he sleep in his own?

I went in later to get clothes. He was on top of the covers, on his belly in a running position, his thigh and arm reached out to my side …, where I’d been. Oh, god damnit! It was so fucking hard to deal with him from a little distance; I just couldn’t take him up close. It would be so much easier if only he was short and not quite so beautiful. Or if he were really straight but then … Ask Forever Glenn about that!

Around ten-thirty I heard him cough and the bed springs squeaked. He was waking up. I put aside the newspaper and heated a mug of coffee in the microwave. I put in a spoon of sugar for him and he still didn’t come out. I went to the bedroom door. He was lying on his back with his arms behind his head. He grinned. “Hey, thanks, man.” He held out one hand. I guess it didn’t matter; he was soft, not reared up and silly looking. I took him the coffee. He set it on the table and pulled me, tugged at my arm. I let him. I was fully dressed, it was okay. I lay down beside him and he turned, again, to sip at the coffee, then he put his face on my shoulder, wrapped an arm over me.

“Mike? I’ve been thinking about it and …I think a real man is a guy who acts with the responsibilities and duties and courage of a man. A guy who takes care of himself and the people he loves. Don’t matter who he loves, right? Parents or a brother or a woman or a friend or his children … but whoever he loves, he sticks by them… that’s a real man. He can be gay or straight or anything in between, don’t matter … it’s in the way he treats people, the things he does for other people … if he tries to give at least as much as he gets, then he’s a man. When a guy tries to just take … to always put himself first … to see what he can get away with… that’s not a man, that’s an animal walking on two feet.”

“See? You are a real man... You take care of shit … It don’t matter if you get turned on by big tits or by a big dick, you’re still a man. The way you pay all the bills on time, because you owe those people … the way you cook for me and stuff, and the way you treat me with respect and friendship even when I’m an ass … that ain’t easy, man. You do the right thing even when it hurts, don’t you? I donno why you think it’s wrong between us but something tells you it’s wrong and you ain’t gonna let it happen … I have to admire that, man. No doubt. I don’t feel like you’re a challenge to my ego or a prize I got to get … not really, that’s just playing with you. I really respect the way you can stand on your own, won’t admit you need anybody … that’s hard, man… but you do it. I couldn’t do it, I’ve tried. When I moved in here I was really broke up, Mike … I’d just lost somebody I thought I couldn’t live without. I didn’t ever want to be hurt like that again. I tried to be just a cool as you. Couldn’t do it. In about a month I was thinking you was the best man I ever knew and I wanted to be close to you so fucking bad. I wanted what you got, whatever it is. Hell, I knew I was taking that chance, again. Knew I was putting myself up for some hurt but … Mike? It’s worth it, man. What if I’d never cared about Glenn? What if I’d turned ice on him, huh? Then I’d never have known him or loved him … or Gina … damn, I knew Gina would find somebody else if I gave her some leash … That’s just Gina, but I still loved her, for a while, you know? And now you.” …

“Maybe you hate me because I’m not the kind of perfect, real man you want … or maybe you just find a reason to avoid the hurt … any reason. Fine, if you can live with that, okay. I can’t, buddy. I can’t be like you. I gotta love somebody or I ain’t nothing. A man ain’t shit if he ain’t got nobody to care about more than himself. I used to think I needed somebody to love me … but that ain’t it. I gotta love somebody, that’s what gives me purpose.”

“I didn’t want to love Glenn. Shit, talk about a bad investment? He was an alcoholic by our junior year of high school, man. But he loved me so hard … he wouldn’t let me forget it... After a while that gets to be a responsibility, you know? I was pretty fucked up, anyway, thinking I was the hottest thing on God’s earth and nobody could touch me. I was a real shit, man … but when I started to look out for Glenn, when I put him first…then I did some growing up. He made a man out of me, Mike, he really did. He became my reason to live, just so I could keep him dry and safe … he stayed sober for months at a time back then. But when he gave up it really tested me … I had to stick by him and watch him drown himself slowly. It was hard, man. I know it wasn’t my fault but some of me died when we buried him, you know? Like I wasn’t enough? I wasn’t enough for Gina, either. I couldn’t keep her away from any guy with a dick. But she never loved me, anyway. She only said she’d marry me because I talked her into it. It was the red shirt, right? She didn’t want me to keep her sweet and innocent, she’d been working on being a slut all her life, couldn’t wait no more. I was just in her way.”

“Thing about you …You never asked much of me, so I figured I could handle that… you didn’t need much, just some company and a little conversation, somebody to do your laundry… When I first started to care about you it seemed so damn easy, no dragons to slay … but I didn’t understand, you’d never need me. Not at all. You could call up Harold or somebody and go down to that bar for an evening… You could hire somebody to wash your shorts and socks. You just don’t need me, I got nothing to give that you want. Well, maybe the next time, huh? Maybe Susan or this guy at the gym … Randy? Somebody, anyway. I gotta love somebody or go crazy, man. I connect to the world through my dick, huh? That’s who I am, though, so I’ll make the best of it…”

“Wait, Warren…stop, shut up!” I sat up, stared down at him.

“Huh?” he rose up and rubbed his eyes. “I‘m sorry, I know I was just talking a blue streak but I figured you’d done yawned off on me, anyway...”

“You shitting me? I didn’t miss a single word. But what you just said, it made so much sense … You said you connect to the world with your dick … don’t you see? That’s the perfect description of a straight man … No matter who he sleeps with; it’s all about his dick!”

“Well, yeah, so? … I mean, that’s not big news. Ask any straight man … gay guys connect to somebody else’s dick, right? It's like electric wires, all connections require a female plug and a male plug … some wires got both plugs, they both work … but it’s the electricity that matters, not how it gets in, right?”

I stared at him. “Yes. Yes … Yes! “

He laughed. “I didn’t know you could say “Yes”. All I ever heard from you is “NO”.

My clothes began to spontaneously leap from my body, everything but my socks. “Let’s get under the covers. Ask me anything and I’ll say YES! Better yet, don’t talk anymore. I don’t want to think … I just want to feel. I want some electricity. You’re enough for me, Warren, don’t worry… That’s more than enough for me, right there!”

“Hey, mine’s bigger! That’s a relief!”

“Men! All you think about is your dick!”

“So?”

“It’s all I think about, too. Mmmm, mine’s bigger than that.”

“No it’s not!”

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