Gay Erotic Stories

My partner (and soon-to-be husband, which positively blows my mind, but then again, even having a wildly hot partner whom I love to and with and from the depths of my being blows my mind), Jim, has a buoyant, brilliant, beautiful (and often bawdy) nineteen year-old son, Perry, who has taken to calling me “Co-Dad”. It made me uncomfortable at first on several levels. I have no experience with “children”. I am the youngest of three brothers, so I don’t even have any “surrogate-father/surrogate-son” big brother / younger brother experience. And, most importantly, I worried that I might be encroaching on Jim’s relationship with his son if I was in any class on par or close to it with his fatherhood status. Actually, the latter couldn’t be farther from the truth. Jim reveled in the close relationship Perry and I had developed.

The “Co-Dad” thing was a compromise, also many-leveled, as so many things have turned out to be multi-leveled in my middle age first real romance. Perry used to call me “Colonel”, due to my recently retired status. I was a Marine all my life and used to being addressed by my last name (Cate), by my rank (most recently Colonel) or by various and sundry other names other than my given first name (Bill) . . . even often by epithets (Jarhead, Dawg, among the more complimentary ones). But somehow when Perry called me “Colonel”, it was uncomfortable for me, so reflexive of me to consider it deferential because Perry in no way struck me as a general officer addressing me by my rank. So I asked him if he wouldn’t call me “Bill”, and while he said he would if that’s what I wanted, he countered with a proposal to call me “Dad”, too. That’s when I got really nervous and uncomfortable . . . but after I called a family discussion we settled on “Co-Dad” after seeing my amazing partner’s broad grin and deep satisfaction at his son’s desire to address me is familiarly, literally.

“Of course, Perry, anything, you know that,” I said, not thinking that my partner’s lavish ocean-front property where we lived and Perry summered now that he was in College would be fraught with land mines, or even one. Funny how your entire lifetime of training to be vigilant can become so neutralized by comfort and head-over-heels love.

“How did you first know you were gay?” he asked, still eager and enthusiastic, as he always was, almost breathless with anticipation.

OK, so at least I realized this WAS a land mine I’d stepped into. “Ummmmm,” I started, but I was at a loss for any thought of how to dodge the shrapnel which was already bursting in my direction. As an out forty-five-year-old retired Delta Force marine, you’d think I could deal with just about anything. Not exactly. I took a breath and collected myself. “Perry, is this curiosity, or . . . “ again I stalled.

“It’s more ‘or’, Co-Dad. Okay, it’s all ‘or’.”

BANG! Although the bomb had detonated, and the shrapnel was already hitting me and cutting into my being, the sound of the blast caught up, and I was undeniably aware that I might be in a really difficult situation. “Don’t you think, then, that this is something maybe you should talk through with your dad?”

That was my best shot.

“Are you kidding me? No way can I talk to my dad about sex!”

Oh, Jesus, it’s worse than I thought. Much worse.

“Perry,” I started, tentatively, with a million zillion thoughts of how this might end badly in my head. “You know you can talk to your dad about anything. I know you can.”

“Okay, let me make this clear. No WAY can I talk to my dad about a hot guy making my dick harder than a hot girl. No fucking way!”

“Perry!” I admonished reflexively. Believe me, I’d learned in the four months Jim and I had been together that he was death on cursing . . . except when he and I were naked, that is.

“I know, I know,” Perry conceded. “But seriously, I need to talk about this, or it’s going to become an even bigger problem for me than it is, and I can’t talk to my dad about it. I just can’t.”

I took another deep breath, thinking I might hyperventilate at this rate if the conversation persisted very long. “Just for the record, Perry, you’re choosing not to, but you CAN talk to your dad about anything. But I get it, and I’m here for you.” God help both of us.

“So?” When I didn’t answer immediately, Perry reiterated the question. “How did you know, Bill?”

Wow, my actual name. This was really serious. “Pretty much the way you just said it, Perry. I was not attracted to girls or women and was highly attracted to boys and men. Okay, I was actually never attracted to boys, per se, but to men.”

“Fuck, I knew it!” he said, with some degree of dejection in his voice, a rare thing for him.

“Well, DUH,” I said, reaching out and pushing his shoulder where he had plopped across from me on the next pool lounge. “You were pretty explicit, there, so it’s no surprise!”

He laughed, fortunately, and so did I, more out of my trepidation for this conversation than anything else. After all, this is the point where the step-son comes on and professes his undying love, and then nobody lives at all happily and often not for long afterward, isn’t it?

We were both quiet after the laugh. I was sweating bullets, and it wasn’t because of the warm late summer Nantucket Sound sun. Perry was quiet and still, a very rare occurrence, looking at the opposite side of the pool or somewhere beyond.

“Are you upset about it, Perry?” I asked.

“Upset?” he asked?

“Yeah, upset, Perry. You’re ‘fuck, I knew it!’ seemed like maybe you’re upset about it.”

“Oh, no way, Co-Dad,” he said, again the Perry I know; quick, assertive.

“So—“

“No,” he cut me off. “That was just like,” and he slapped his forehead. “It was more of a ‘Duh, I could have had a V-8!’ ya know?” I didn’t, and Perry interpreted my silence properly. “Ya see, I’ve never done the guy-on-guy thing. When it’s been, uh, an option, it wasn’t a guy I was into. And I haven’t acted on my, um, desire,” which he said with very detailed emphasis on the word, “at least not yet.” And then he leaned more forward toward me, well-tanned arms on his knees, hands clasped. “The men who make me hard are MEN, not guys my age, Bill. Strong MEN, confident MEN, men like you, in fact.”

OH SHIT, there it was, at last, the core fragments of the land mine punching through me. FUCK, WHAT NOW?!

I sat there paralyzed, looking directly at him, knowing I had to get out of this situation, knowing that everything I’d now come to need in my life was on the verge of being blasted apart, too. I had survived Somalia, Afghanistan and Iraq, but I was scared shitless that this would be where I bit the dust.

“Is that weird, Bill? Liking older men I mean? Was it like that for you when you were my age or a younger teenager?”

“I, uh, um,” I stammered.

“I mean, it’s not like there aren’t plenty of hot guys my age around, but they just don’t DO IT for me.” Again, the exaggerated emphasis. “Is it normal for a guy my age to be into men your age?”

I couldn’t even stammer this time. I just kept seeing Jim, the man I love, kept seeing this new life I love, all of it, my life, my friends who know and love Jim, my mother, my brothers, Jim’s parents, my very solitary, unfulfilling life before Jim.

“Co-Dad? HELLO, Co-Dad, earth to Co-Dad,” I finally heard Perry saying and saw him come into focus again, waving a hand in front of me.

“Yeah, Perry,” I managed.

“Dude, this is really hard for me.”

And he had no idea, being an idealistic teenager, how difficult it would be for me, for his dad, for him, when this all blew up. There would be no happily ever after for anyone.

“Hey, you can help me here, Co-Dad. PLEASE, help me here.”

I took a shot. “Perry, I know this sounds like a good idea to you now. But you aren’t looking at the situation realistically.”

He moved back, as if I’d slapped him. “What the f—er what the heck, Co-Dad? I thought you of all people would get what I’m going through.”

“That’s just it, Perry, I do get it. I totally get it.”

“Then why would you try to tell me to deny who I am?” He looked miserable, and I really did get it.

I swung my legs over the side of the lounge and leaned in to him this time. “Listen, Perry, when you’re my age you’ll look back on this and see it for the mistake it is. I promise you.”

“This isn’t a mistake, Bill, this is my life. This is who I am. It’s totally clear to me now who I am and where I belong in the world.”

“But,” I started, as if I had a decent rebuttal, but I ran out of gas.

“Seriously, Colonel? I can’t believe you’d tell me to deny who I am.” Perry was almost pleading now.

“Perry, I totally get that you’re gay, and I’m not suggesting that you deny that at all. Believe me.” Now it was I who was pleading.

“Then what the fuck?”

“OK, listen, Perry.”

“Would you STOP fucking saying that? I’m a man, not a boy, and I know what I want. I just thought maybe you would be someone I could talk to that would understand what I’m going through and help me through this.”

“Perry, I’m trying to do just that, and no way I’m trying to treat you as anything other than the man you are. But this attraction you feel now, you’ll see that it’s really not what you think it is.”

“How can you say that? You’re my dad’s age, and you’re still gay. You were gay when you were my age, right? So how can you say I don’t know what I am?”

“Perry, I’m not telling you not to be gay or that you’re not gay.”

“Then what? What are you telling me not to feel.”

Okay, fuck it! “This feeling you have for me, Perry. It’s just an infatuation, and it will bring us all to ruin.”

Suddenly Perry’s face changed again, changed to what I am used to, the snarky kid who’s full of life. “So you don’t think we could make it work, Colonel?” he asked, with a huskier voice, full of intent. “You really don’t think we could make a go of it and have tons of fun along the way, huh? What is it? Am I too young for you or what?”

“Perry, seriously, it’s not that there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Of course there’s not, Co-Dad. There’s something wrong with you. Something like you TOTALLY missed the point. Dude, you’re my DAD, my second dad, for Chrissake! I don’t have a thing for you. I didn’t mean it that way!”

The relief was a lot like waking up realizing you’re back stateside for real, not just dreaming it in country on a mission somewhere where everybody’s aiming at you with anything they can use. “Guess that was pretty egotistical of me to assume that?”

“Nah, Co-Dad, I get it,” Perry said generously. “But give me a little credit for not being part of some trite little tale. Besides, I know you and my dad are totally made for each other. Even if I DID think you’re all that, no way would I fuck with that.”

“Perry!” I said, again reacting to the profanity his father eschewed.

“Dude, relax, it was a play on words,” he said, leaning back on the lounge and knocking his shades back down. “So now that we’ve got your gargantuan ego out of the way, maybe you can help me with some experience-based tips here for how to get from where I am to who I am?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“OH FUCK YES, JUST LIKE THAT. BANG IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT AND DRIVE ME HOME, Bill!” my hunk of a boyfriend yelled as I drilled his ass like I’d been in solitary confinement for a year.

“You fucking know it,” I spat back, loving the way his once too-tight fuckhole now perfectly gripped my horsecock as I reamed the length of me into him.

“OH GOD THAT’S IT!” he screamed, as I nailed his prostate with every thrust.

Jim’s hairy ripped body jolted when every one of my thrusts hit home, and he threw his head back and forth. He was throwing his groin up into my thrusts and gripping my cock with his tight mancunt and making my bull nuts boil.

“OH FUCK YEAH, I’M THERE!” he yelled, and I felt his ass grip me like he was going to rip my cock off me and saw his big cock steel-hard cock jerk and then begin spraying his cum like one of those big soaker water guns filled with thick white cum. Of course I loved the sight of his creamy seed all over his fur and the blast or two that went over his head or crossed his face.

And that took me right over the edge, too. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” And I blasted my own seed into the man who was going to become my husband the next day on the vast shore of his parents’ “cottage” in Martha’s Vineyard.

“YEAH, BILL! That’s my stud! OH FUCK YEAH, fill me with it, my love!”

And I did, those words echoing when I finally was conscious enough to hear them still ringing in the air of our bedroom. I collapsed onto him, our sweat-soaked bodies smearing his huge cumload between us in his fur. Jim’s legs were wrapped around me tight, and he wrapped his muscled arms around me and held me tight as we both panted.

The stench of our sex kept me rock-hard inside him as I was essentially unable to move. Jim just held me.

“I love the feel of your weight on me, Bill,” he whispered in his deep baritone into my ear and kissing my neck right there. I felt my cock twitch and my hips push, and Jim growled and clenched around me.

“Turn over,” I ordered, as I got myself back up off him enough to pull out of him and let him turn over.

Jim was on all fours a second later, and my still-hard cock was pounding him again, my big bull balls were smacking his low hangers as I drilled him. “OH JESUS CHRIST that’s GOOD!” he growled.

It was. It was fucking amazing. It was always amazing with Jim, had been since the first time, when we’d hooked up at my company picnic. We’d been inseparable ever since. Often unseparated, as it were, in just the way we were now.

I had my love by his shoulders, my hands holding him, my groin drilling my huge cock into him balls-deep as we both yelled obscenities and he ground his ass back into me, fucking into me as much as I was fucking him.

We went at it like that for a long time, as it always was but even longer always the second time than the first. Jim suddenly reached back and grabbed my gargantuan nuts in a clench and yanked them. “I want more seed!” he declared.

I fucked him even harder, if that was possible, feeling my groin grind into the marble globes of his perfect ass with a force that threatened to break his tailbone and my pelvis. But we fucking loved it like that – two bulls, both wanting it, both needing it, both needing what each other has, both needing to give the other what he has.

It was my turn this time. “OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” I yelled, as my first blast shot deep inside him.

Jim clenched harder and shouted something long, loud, deep and unintelligible, and I felt his innards spasm as his second load blasted into the thousand thread-count sheets which I’d almost gotten used to.

When the unloading was done, I rolled off him and onto my back next to him, leaving the enormous wet spot for him to lay in. If he minded, he never said so. He fell back against me, my arm wrapping around him and his head on my shoulder. After we’d been quiet for some time, Jim said, “So tell me more about your gay coaching session with the son unit.”

I’d told Jim the story from the start of that conversation and the misunderstanding, but when we got to “enormous ego”, he’d wanted something else of mine that’s actually enormous, as opposed to the accusation about my ego. That was a couple of hours before. I told Jim the rest as we lay there in the bed with the bedroom lights now dimmed after we’d finished . . . about his son’s uncertainties, his desires, about being afraid to act on them, not because he was afraid of being himself, but because he was uncertain of how to tell if there was attraction from another man, about being worried that his desire for older men was not ‘normal’ and about some of his questions about the more ‘functional’ aspects of male-on-male sex. Somehow I’d survived even the questions. And at the end of it all Perry thanked me by asking me if he could tell me that he loved me without my ego getting the wrong idea. At that point in the story – the end, when Perry hugged me and for once in my life I felt like a father – Jim kissed my jaw and snuggled into me for the night before our wedding day.