LGBT Stories

Soft warm lips pressed tenderly against my neck. I moaned.
Lost in a deep sleep, I wasn’t totally aware of them. The kisses
moved downward. Across my chest. So soft, so loving and gentle.
Not yet realizing what was happening, I clung to the unconscious
world we call sleep. But my body responded to those warm, soft
kisses. My nipples were erect with anticipation when a hot
tongue flicked over my right nipple. I moaned again as the hot
tongue flicked over my left nipple. Not hurrying, but making
sure that no kiss landed on the same spot twice, the kisser moved
slowly down my stomach, pausing only to flick the hot tongue into
my belly button for just a second before moving further downward.
One kiss on the ridge at the base of the head of my erect organ,
which, by this time was screaming for attention, then my whole
organ was engulfed in a warm, moist mouth.
I moaned again and pressed my hips upward. Opening my eyes,
I looked down and our eyes met. I was lost in the moment. Lost
in those beautiful puppy-dog brown eyes.

(more…)

“Thank you for calling, sir,” I said. “If you have any more
problems with it, be sure to call us back. I have updated your
record, so anyone who answers will be able to help you with the
reference number I gave you.” He thanked me and
hung up. I closed out his file and set myself back to available
for calls.
“Are you off the phone?” my cube mate asked, taking
off his headphones.
“Yes,” I replied, pushing my mouth piece up out of the
way.
“Good. Come here, I want you to see this.”
Unhooking my headphones, I got up and crossed to his
desk. The cubical was small enough that there wasn’t much
room for both our desks, but his desk had been placed facing the
door and the end of mine was facing the end of his so no one who
walked in could sneak up on us, nor could they see what we were
doing on our computers.

(more…)

All of the studies done on the subject have shown that not only does a gay
gene exist, it runs in families. So everyone who is gay would have to
wonder which of their ancestors were also gay. As it happens, I recently
learned that at least one of my gay ancestors was my
great-great-grandfather.

My grandfather left his house to my father, who turned it over to me. It’s
located just outside Washington DC in Chevy Chase, Maryland. It’s a big,
old house that was built with room to house a live-in staff of servants (My
grandfather was an emminent college professor). It even has a guest
house. I don’t need all that space so I’m thinking of turning it into a
bed-and-breakfast and I’ll live in the guest house.

I was going through the tons of stuff in the attic and ran across a
“journal” or even something of an autobiography that my
great-great-grandfather wrote. He wrote it long- hand a little over 50
years ago just before he passed away. It was tough to read - he didn’t have
an education and, according to him, didn’t even learn how to read and write
until after he retired! He didn’t use any punctuation or anything, and the
booklet itself was old and yellowed with fragile pages, so it took me a
long while to read and decipher it.

(more…)

“Awwww FUCK!!!” Tony almost grabbed his computer monitor and threw it out the window. Instead he alternated from burying his face in his hands to slamming his fist on his desk to picking up pencils and throwing them across the room. The racket brought Rick, his boyfriend, running into the room.

“Hey, hey, hey babe!” Rick ran up behind Tony, pulled him out of his chair and wrapped him up in a hug. Tony’s face was beet red, the veins in his neck standing out and throbbing. Tony was shaking, acting like he was about to burst into tears. Rick held him until he calmed down some.

“Ssssh, babe.” Rick whispered in Tony’s ear, “It’s ok now. I’m here. I’m here. What the hell’s going on?”

“They did it again!!” Tony mumbled. “They fucking did it again, damn it!!”

“Did what?” Rick asked, “Who did it? What did they do to you?”

“They deleted another one!” Tony cried. “Over five thousand members and they just deleted it!”

(more…)

“Humans are all fucking crazy. Every last one of them.”

– Albert Ellis, psychologist

~~~

From the moment I met him, I knew that Clovis was a little different.

No. Let me rephrase that.

From the moment I met him, I knew that Clovis was crazy as hell.

My first clue was his T-shirt.

Now, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, and I have seen more than a few wild outfits in my time. I just have never seen them in the foyer of an exclusive (and I mean seriously exclusive) four-star chi-chi restaurant like the one we were in.

And this was not in some trendy coastal metropolis where people are sometimes blase about this sort of thing. This was in freaking Dallas, Texas, for crying out loud.

Now, why someone would wear a T-shirt to a place like that in the first place is cause enough for valid questioning of the T-shirt wearer’s sanity.

But when the T-shirt in question has the words “THINK KINK!” emblazoned in huge bright pink glittery letters on a black background, the matter is no longer about questioning the person’s sanity. You can pretty much just hand him his certificate right there on the spot. Just go ahead and call the men in white to come pick him up. He’s nuts. There’s just no two ways about it.

(more…)

You have just come home from work and you’re completely exhausted from your hard day. You go to the kitchen and prepare a soothing cup of tea. While drinking your tea, sitting in the soft couch with that big fluffy pillow along with the dimmed lights and some soft jazz, you have begun to unwind. You decide to take a shower. Very slowly you get up, go down the hall to your bedroom and begin to undress. The soft vellure top is slowly pulled over your head. You sit on the edge of the bed and then lay back. Covering your abdomen with your hands, you begin to massage yourself, letting your hands run freely and very gently over your body. A sigh escapes your lips. Now you lift your butt a little and pull your jeans right down and over your feet, remaining only in your briefs. Your hand slips inside these and you fondle yourself, just taking it easy and feeling good.

I am in the shower preparing the jet stream for you — the temperature you like the most with the massage head adjusted to your favorite pressure. You finally enter the bathroom and take me in your arms. We embrace and our mouths meet, tongues exploring. I fall onto my knees and bury my mouth over your crotch and begin to suck you through the soft material. My sucking has helped the blood flow through your body and into that glorious container of vessels and muscles and you become extremely hard. I pull your briefs down gently over your hard cock and then down over your legs and feet. You step into the shower. Standing there with your eyes closed, you feel soapy hands on your body. I am lathering you. You loosen up even more. You feel a heat building in your groin. My hands slowly rotate all over your body, bringing a warm feeling to your entire being. This feeling excites you and you let out a soft moan. Now I get undressed and stand in the shower with you. You are facing the wall, hands up over your head, resting on the tiles. My stomach comes up against your back and we both just lean there allowing the water to flow over us. My arms enfold you around your torso pulling you closer. I place them on your chest, running them up and down from your neck down to just below your waist in ever-increasing circles, the soap in my hand making your body even more slippery and clean.

(more…)

You and I are having a very special time in our jacuzzi out on the terrace, playing with each other and kissing. We have been enjoying the wonderfully warm weather and the equally warm water now for some time … our skin is soft and pliant. It is once again time. We put our cutoffs back on and go downstairs and work out on the exerciser for yet another hour. It is time now. Slowly, we go up the stairs to our private, special boudoir. You mix us that wonderful drink with the gin and the mango juice and we sip it slowly while sitting on the bed. The jacuzzi warmed our skin. The wonderful drink now warms our insides. You stand up, approach me and we kiss — a very deep and searching kiss. You then unzip my cutoffs thereby releasing them from my skin leaving only my bikini briefs and blindfold me; you remain clothed … it is your time now.

You are standing next to me, but I do not see you. The game begins. You brush against me and then move away. I start groping for you but miss you by inches. You talk to me, but I cannot feel you as you are in constant movement. You are playing with me. You sneak up to me and I know you are close by the soft embrace on my mouth from the breath that escapes your gentle lips. I stick my tongue, searching your mouth but, like a butterfly, you evade me. This unusual stimulation excites my penis, making it engorge, tenting my briefs. Without a doubt, you are also becoming erect. You always do at this stage of the game. “Todd,” you say, “take off your briefs now. I am ready for you.” Without hesitation, I obey you and I am now fully naked, completely erect and … waiting for movement.
(more…)

I am lying on my bed and am completely alone. I am very dirty from a day’s work and decide to take a hot shower. This is a very normal day-to-day occurrence. I am also very much alone at home.

I saunter off to the kitchen and check to see if the coffeemaker has done its job and, seeing that it’s ready, pour myself a cup of coffee and thirstily drink it down. Slowly, I make my way to the living room and put on one of my favorite jazz discs. I spent a lot of time and energy making my home as comfortable as possible, ensuring that I had enough speakers to enable me to pump music into whichever room I desire, also being able to turn speakers off in other rooms. I turn on the speaker for the shower room only. I am slowly becoming more and more relaxed and feel a stirring inside of myself. I enter the bathroom and turn on the hot water, adjusting the head to the massage jet.

First, I start by stripping down to my underwear and put my hand in to see if the water is hot enough and has the pressure which I need. Fine. I slowly pull my jockeys off completely and stand their luxuriating in my nakedness, my hands rubbing my abdomen and twinking my nipples, just ever so slightly. I enter the stall, close the shower curtain and feel the solitude in the steam.

(more…)

“You’re not even a real doctor, are you?!” His tone is confrontational. Derisive. Dismissive.

“I’m a Ph.D., David. I’m not an M.D.”

“Shit, man!” David’s eyes flash with contempt. Sarcasm drips from his voice. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here. You’re not even a legitimate shrink!”

“I’m a licensed psychotherapist, David. But if you doubt my credentials we should stop right now. This won’t work without total trust between us.”

I office in my home, and we’re sitting outside on my flagstone terrace. The fire in the sky at this time of the evening always takes my breath away. The sun is a golden red orb as it slips slowly below the horizon, casting multi-hued flashes of sunlight on a massive cloudbank above. This, the sun’s final act of the day, is almost always a virtuoso performance in this part of Texas. And this evening, from the terrace of my hilltop home, it’s an incendiary showstopper.

(more…)

The mournful wail of a bagpipe echoes through the chapel. The melancholy notes reverberating through the sacred hall. Rick and I stand with heads bowed. Both of us numbed by grief. Barely aware of our surroundings. As we memorialize the lives of both of our wives.

They were walking together on a deserted beach. The storm tossed ocean, angry and belligerent. A sneaker wave. A vicious rip tide. And our wives were gone. Dispatched into oblivion. Snatched up into eternity. Leaving us both inconsolable.

The sheriff’s department conducted the usual search. But our wives had gone to a watery grave. A few of their personal possessions were recovered. My wife’s blouse and one shoe. A jacket belonging to Rick’s wife. The pitiful remains of two vibrant lives.

From the hallowed halls of Stanford. Thirty five years ago. To a fog bound chapel in Seattle. Today. It’s been an amazing journey of love and camaraderie. Rick and I were roommates at Stanford. We met our future wives there. Grew to love them there. And married them there. And for thirty five years we had been a virtual family. Just the four of us. We never had children. No kids to take care of. So we took care of each other.

(more…)

Chapter 1 The News

The phone call came at 8 o’clock in the evening. It was an event destined to become forever imprinted upon my psyche, although at the time there was no way for me to understand that my life was about to be forever altered. This wasn’t an ordinary phone call and the sequence of events that had been set into motion seemed surreal and only a quirk of fate prevented them from becoming fatal.

I was a young man trying to figure out the ways of the world when I met Big Mike. He’d been the positive roll model I needed, but it ran deeper than that. He had proved to be a good friend that I could trust and depended upon when I needed help. He’d been there for me during my most difficult moments, but this time it wasn’t me needing his help but him needing mine.

His voice had been different, haunting, troubling. It wasn’t what he said but how he said it as well as what he had left out. He spoke two short sentences and hung up.
(more…)

James Collier found himself wondering around Marketsville dazed and confused as if his life had been drained from him. He felt tired and listless but knew that he must find help. He tried to recall what had happened the night before but it thus far was nothing more than a blur. The brick had been thrown through his window with a note attached. James read the note and then wadded it up, then went to the phone and dialed the police. A week had passed since he moved to Marketsville and already the hate mongers had found him here. Not because of his political views but because of his lifestyle not one that he choose but one that he was born into. He, a young gay man, nothing more or less with nothing to hide or to cover up but some would say that he needed to cover up his lifestyle. Not a radical in his views of life just about life itself.

Firm believers in live and let live, harming none and none harming him. At least he has been able to live up to his part of the bargain. He had hurt no one but throughout his life he had been constantly hurt. James had thought that Marketsville would be different from the rest of the towns that he had been in. But even here they had found him, his mind had been focused on a new beginning of hope and rest and not of distance and pain.
(more…)

James Collier found himself wondering around Marketsville dazed and
confused as if his life had been drained from him. He felt tired and
listless but knew that he must find help. He tried to recall what had
happened the night before but it thus far was nothing more than a blur.
The brick had been thrown through his window with a note attached. James
read the note and then wadded it up, then went to the phone and dialed the
police. A week had passed since he moved to Marketsville and already the
hate mongers had found him here. Not because of his political views but
because of his lifestyle not one that he choose but one that he was born
into. He, a young gay man, nothing more or less with nothing to hide or to
cover up but some would say that he needed to cover up his lifestyle. Not
a radical in his views of life just about life itself.
(more…)

They tell me that hope means a feeling that what is wanted will happen. This describes the life of one of my friends. I met him while still in highschool, I am seventeen and Tim is eighteen. Perfect contrasts to one another in shape, I am heavy and Tim is lean. I stand five-eight and he is just under six - one. I light skinned and black haired, he with tanned skin and golden hair and I with black hair and dark eyes.

When looking at a glass of water filled half way to the top. I would shout for all to here, “That this glass is half empty!”

While Tim would look at the glass and meekly whisper, “No, it is half full.”
(more…)

Stephen was not an exceptional child, however he was not ugly like the story that we had heard as children of the ugly duck that had turned into a swan. Life was good for him; he had a job that allowed him to keep gas in his car and was a track star on his highschool track team. His future was going to be an exceptional one and unlike most he had found some one to spend his life with. His name is Eric Connely, a boy who sat two seats from him in Chemistry class. They had often been paired together to work on various projects for school and then that intellectual pairing blossomed in the summer into an emotional one. Stephen had caught Eric watching him while trying to maintain his interest in his class work and trying desperately to hide his interest and fascination with Stephen behind the pages and theories of Boyle’s Law.  (more…)

Julien woke up to the sound of glass breaking; he sat up and poked at his boyfriend. Jose rolled over, ignoring the poke, and slid his arms around Julien, pulling Julien’s small body into his side.

“Papi,” Julien insisted, “Someone is in our house, go see!”

Jose sat up with a start, kissed Julien on the forehead, and bounded naked out of the room stopping only to grab the baseball bat he kept next to the bed. A few minutes later, Jose returned with a laugh, tossed aside the bat, and curled up around Julien’s body with no explanation.

“WHAT??” Julien yelled, shaking Jose awake again. (more…)