Gay Erotic Stories

Why does it seem all the cute guys around here spend their Sunday mornings in Sunday School and summer evenings in Vacation Bible School? In the past several years we have been visited by several suburban missionaries, usually during supper or while I am busy washing the car, and although I am always eager to dispute verse with them, I usually am persuaded just to take their brochures and send them along. I decided about 6 months ago that should they ever return when I was home alone, I wouldn't be such a disinterested lost soul. No sooner had school started back than the local church began sending out indoctrination teams (always two in number) and it just so happened I had left work early one Wednesday afternoon. My wife was working late and I had not yet picked up my children from their grandparents, when two missionaries pulled into the driveway. Once I was sure they were probably missionaries and not some salesmen (if there is a difference), I ran upstairs to put my plan into action. I figured I'd send them running for good this time. The doorbell rang and I opened the window and yelled through the blinds and screen, “I’ll be right down!” I opened the door in my wife's robe. I had quickly wet my hair under the bathroom spigot for good measure. "Yes?" The older one, about 45, greeted me, "Good evening, Mr.…" "David is fine." I shook his hand. "Hello David, I am Gary," and then Gary motioned toward the younger guy, apparently an apprentice, in his mid-20s, "and this is Russ." I nodded and raised my eyebrows as if to ask what they were doing, although I knew full well. "Russ and I are out visiting your beautiful neighborhood this afternoon and encouraging all of you to pay us a visit on Sunday." Gary knew this was the point at which he sometimes was ordered from the premises of disinterested backsliders. I decided to remain rather tight-lipped to make it more difficult for him, "Thanks." "Now, Dave, if you don't mind my asking, do you or your family belong to a church in the community?" I wondered how many times Russ had listened to Gary's opener before, but he acted as if I should be thankful to be personally questioned in this manner. "Not exactly," I replied, “but let me ask you something: Is your church one of those fundamentalist churches?" Gary and Russ beamed, as if God had anointed them for a special mission this Wednesday afternoon in the suburbs of America. "If by fundamentalist, you mean Bible-believin', then yes it is." "So you believe every command given by God in the Bible is an instruction to you both?" Russ nodded, but middle-aged Gary smelled a trick question; still Gary nodded and replied, "Of course." Although he was about 10 years older than I, I thought Gary was pretty cute: I liked his white-collar appearance (casual Wednesdays hadn't yet caught on at one church, apparently); he was no doubt a pillar of the church. I smiled, and stepped back into my foyer and opened the door wide, "Y'all come in. Can I get you a drink?" They stepped into the foyer but passed on the drink. I continued without a breath, "I don't want the neighbors to see me in my wife's bed robe. Let me close the door. And I never wear a robe inside." I started to un-knot the robe and saw their jaws drop open. "You know, Dave, we just came by to invite you to join our family of believers this Sunday. We really need to be moving along." Gary looked at the floor rather than at me: my robe, which was now open in front, revealed my bare smooth chest and thighs, and with some effort on the part of an observer, the black hairs of my crotch as well. Russ was jangling change in his pocket and looking at his watch nervously, "Sorry, David, but we have to get going." Russ stepped back and re-opened my front door and walked out into the late afternoon sun. "Oh, I get it: you have a problem with nudity...well, good night and thanks for stopping by." I began to re-fasten my robe. Gary looked stunned. I don't think he'd ever had a visitation go quite like this. Gary stuttered, "Well, David, it's just...I mean...we just have to get back...Good night and we hope to see you and your family this weekend." I couldn't resist my parting shot, "Well I don't think I could join a church that wouldn't welcome the prophet Isaiah." Gary turned around sharply, "Pardon me?" "Think about it. Good night." I closed the door behind them and watched them scurry back to their Oldsmobile, in a rush to get inside and close the car doors so they could discuss what the hell had just happened. I laughed a bit and went into the living room, crashed in front of the TV and opened the robe and began playing with my cock while flipping between the weather and news headlines. Sometime later, maybe 20 minutes or so, there was a knock at the door. My cock was hard, but the terry cloth robe was heavy so I thought why not and went to see who it was...there stood Gary outside the door, but no sign of Russ. My cock subsided. "Forget something?" I asked as I opened the door and motioned him in. He stepped in without hesitation, "As a matter of fact, yes: I forgot to ask you something when Russ and I were here." "Where is Russ? Phoning the sheriff?" I laughed, but a bit nervously. "Of course not. He's gone home to be with his family. But when we returned to church I tried to understand your reference to Isaiah and prayed to God for revelation, but He has sent me back here to discuss it with you." "God sent you here?" Even I was surprised now. "Oh yes, he directs his servants directly and I have opened my heart to his will." I rolled my eyes; "Well my wife will be here with supper in about an hour, so I hope whatever He directs you to do won't take all night." "Just explain Isaiah to me and I will be on my way, David." "Well go have a seat in the living room and I'll be in there in a minute." I stepped into the library next to my office and from the doorway watched Gary walk into the living room, watched his ass in his wrinkled suit pants make it way down my hall, and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. I grabbed my junior-high New American Standard Bible and squeezed the pre-cum from the end of my cock and wiped it on the robe, and stepped out to join him and call his bluff. Gary was sitting nervously on the edge of the couch, as if he had drunk a cup of coffee on his way over. I sat directly opposite him on a chair and decided to keep my robe closed tightly for the moment, "Well, Gary, you expressly agreed that you believe the Bible contains commands from God, and you just now agreed God calls his servants to follow him, right?" I looked him square in his blue-gray eyes. He loosened his cotton tie, "Yes...?" "Well, let me read Isaiah 20:2-3 to you, ok?" "Read me the Word of God, David." He looked at me almost like a child, but really, it was more like a drunk, although I knew he wasn't the least bit intoxicated on alcohol. I knew Gary was asking himself what did this Generation X'er on Pondview Lane know about the word of God that he did not? So I began, looking him in the eyes every few words, "…at that time the Lord spoke through Isaiah, the son of Amos, saying, 'Go and loosen the sackcloth from your hips, and take the shoes off your feet.' And he did so, going naked and barefoot. And the Lord said, 'Even as my servant Isaiah has gone naked and barefoot three years as a sign and token against Egypt’..." The trance was broken and Gary smiled, "Is that it?" "Yep. I get the impression naked Isaiah wouldn't be welcome at your church." "Well..." Gary now recognized the trap laid a half-hour earlier. "Well, what? God sent you here to loosen your sackcloth." Now he looked me straight in the eye, "You're confusing me with Isaiah." "Why not? Are you suggesting God would have commanded Isaiah to do something inherently sinful?" "Of course not." "Well if there is no sin in God's eyes in Isaiah's going naked for 3 years in mixed company, then surely 30 minutes in my house is a small task God has called you do to." "Why would God care? And why do you care?" "Because when I went to undress on your first visit, you acted as if you had God's judgment on your side as you raced to the car. Why would I want to join a church like that and why would I subject my children to it? It's just the principle of the thing. Some people handle snakes to prove their faith in God's word; perhaps you've been sent here to show your snake, so to speak, to demonstrate your faith to a cynic like me." Gary stood up and looked at me again, unsure about what to do, but wanting it to end. He looked up into my vaulted ceiling and whispered, "Thy will be done," and immediately slipped his wingtips off. Gary was in the lion's den and he knew it. Then he bent over and pulled off his black wool socks, a few tiny black threadballs stuck to his hairy toes. He hung his tie over the edge of the sofa and even unbuttoned the buttons on his oxford collar, before tackling the ones that ran down his chest and belly. He laid his starched white dress shirt over his tie. He unbelted but did not remove the belt and its weight sent his wool-blend slacks crashing to his bare ankles. He turned to hang them on a nearby doorknob and as he did so I saw a man, a smooth-shaven, untanned, middle-aged, married banker, probably a father, whose t-shirt had some discoloration from armpit sweat and whose patterned boxers revealed little. Still facing me, but staring through me into the fireplace, he reached up and pulled the t-shirt over his head, briefly closing his eyes as he did so, and as he folded it neatly I observed the spattering of freckles and moles on his chest and shoulders, like my own, and the renegade hairs surrounding his nipples, like mine. He too had a slight paunch from "banking" all day at his desk. Then, in a desperately quick maneuver, his thumbs brought his boxers down onto my beige carpet and he left them in the floor. Gary stood there, in God's image, naked from head to toe: he had shed his sackcloth and now his pinkish-brown sack hung from his soft cock only a few feet from my face. This man drove an Oldsmobile from his church over here less than 20 minutes ago, I thought. Even I am amazed by my plans sometimes. Gary made strong eye contact to try to keep me from checking him out, but it didn't work. I really looked him up and down and nodded approvingly. I had to admit he was a good sport. He finally asked, "Well?" "I admit you're a true believer, I didn't think you had it in you." I felt a bit guilty for taking advantage of such sincere religious belief. Gary smiled. "Your turn, David." "You want to see me naked, Gary?" "I want to know if hypocrisy is among the many sins you should beg forgiveness for." "I'll take that as a yes, then," and since I am a frustrated exhibitionist, I undid the robe and let it, too, fall to the floor. We both stood in my living room facing each other's long legs, dangling penises, bellies, chest and yes, expressions of bewilderment. "Now what? Happy?" I asked him, thinking he'd leave. "Now that I've proven myself, I want you to sit on the couch with me and discuss a passage from the Bible." "Bloody hell," I thought. But after all this, I figured I owed it to him. "Sure," I said. We sat down together on the leather sofa (from Denmark, I think my wife said) and Gary opened the Bible. He began to read when I interrupted, "What are you reading from?" "Song of Songs. Ever heard of it?" "Like psalms? I think so." "Not exactly. It's a book many churches don't pay enough attention to these days. Here, come read it with me," and he waved me closer after grabbing his own Bible. As I moved closer to see the text, my left leg pressed against his right. First I felt the hairs on our legs stand erect and brush each other, and then, bare flesh against bare flesh. Most guys will go to great lengths to avoid touching each other, even in a crowded car or bus, but neither of us said or did anything to avoid it. The passages were highlighted here and there and frankly, in my opinion, the pages looked a bit stained. "Here: let's just read the ones I've marked. You go first, David..." So, naked, I sat next to a Bible-believing missionary and began reading some unknown book in the Old Testament: "My beloved is to me a pouch of myrrh which lies all night between my breasts..." (a pouch?!?) My own pouch began to tingle and roll around on the leather. Gary seemed to know his passage by heart and he looked at me as he spoke his line, "How handsome you are my beloved, and so pleasant! Indeed, our couch is luxuriant!" At this point my cock was hard and pointing straight up. Because of the Bible I couldn't see his cock and I presumed he couldn't see mine either. I felt the skin would rip apart I was growing so hard. I was next: "Because I am lovesick, let his left hand be under my head." As God as my witness, I felt Gary's left hand under the head of my cock, lightly stroking just the underside of my circumcised head. He must've seen me hard to have had such good aim with his hand. This was not in my plan. He acted as if he were doing nothing and continued with his part, "Open to me, my darling, my dove, my perfect one, for my head is drenched with dew..." "I have taken off my dress how can I put it on again?" "My beloved extended his hand through the opening and my feelings were aroused for him." I could barely read as he now milked the length of my cock, from the base to the tip, in slow and steady squeezes. I was now holding the Bible by myself, and doing all the reading "Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle..." I moved the Bible to my side so I could see Gary slap his hard cock against his lower abs and upper thighs, while he continued to milk mine with the other hand. I wasn't at all sure he was still listening to me, but I continued reading the highlighted passages..."Your stature is like a palm tree and your breasts are like its clusters. I said I will climb the palm tree. I will take hold of its fruit stalks." He gripped my cock even harder. Then I felt his warm mouth on me as I began the last passage, and I began to convulse, "Oh that you were like a brother to me, who nursed at my mother's breasts. If I found you outdoors, I would kiss you; No one would despise me, either." Gary sat up and kissed me and drained my cum from his mouth between my lips and onto my tongue. Without a word he took his Bible from me and there on page 955 of Gary's own New American Standard Bible, he unloaded glob after glob of his cum into the crease of the book. He stretched back and leaned against my shoulder. Out of curiosity I turned to page 981 to dog-ear the passage from Isaiah for him as a memento of our evening, only to discover the verses I had read Gary earlier had been highlighted and underlined long ago... Let me know what you think. huey_breaux@yahoo.com.