Free gay sex stories: Blake & Ben – Chapter 5 – Just Stay
After the beautiful scenes of love, lust and a private concert performed by yours truly, we lay together in my bed, wearing nothing but our boxer briefs. I breathe in Ben’s scent, wishing Febreze bottled it in an aerosol can. My head, again, is resting on his chest. My finger tracing his right pectoral muscle, starting near his armpit, going down underneath his nipple then up the middle of his chest. I feel him shiver.
Mmph. That tickles, he says, with a smile in his voice.
I chuckle then make an audible humph.
What’s wrong, he asks.
I raise my head from his chest and lay on my side, propping my head on my hand as I look at him. I remain silent for a bit, just smiling at him, totally in love. I could stare at his face all day and never find a flaw. Never find anything I’d like to change. Never get bored or sick of looking at him. I sigh and finally speak up.
You’ve screwed yourself, Benjamin Jaxon, I say, tapping the tip of his nose with my index finger.
What are you talking about… Blake Abel, he asks, smiling at the fact that we used each other’s middle names.
You’ve pulled me in too hard and too fast, Ben. Your hooks are so deep in me, it’s hard to breathe. You can’t ever get sick of me, got it? ‘Cause you’re stuck with me now. I smile at him, drunk in love.
He sits up a bit, seriousness washing over his face. I can see something in his eyes, but whatever it is, I can’t quite decipher it.
That’s never going to happen, you hear me? I told you I love you. I told you you’re my first and my last. He pauses, looking me in the eye, letting it sink in. “I fell for you the moment I laid eyes on you. I mean that. I know kids our age drop that three-worded bomb hastily, not really understanding the weight of it. But, I know what love is. Love is you, Blake.”
I sniff and blink, to fight back the tears I fear are about to fall. I manage a smile and say, “You come here to me.”
He wastes no time. He pushes himself on top of me and lowers his face to mine, planting the softest kiss on my lips. He slowly raises his head and looks down into my eyes. It’s his turn to trace me with his fingers. The look on his face is still studious, as if he is deeply studying my face, trying to remember every curve, every detail. He starts at the bridge of my nose, over my eyebrow, down around my eye to my cheek, then under my chin. The light touch brings what feels like goosebumps to my face.
You’re too damn cute when you do that, he says, finally smiling that smile that warms my heart as I open my eyes.
When I do what, I ask.
When you blush, he says, swiping his thumb back and forth across my cheek.
I lean into his touch as he cups the side of my face with his hand. I nuzzle into it. I could stay here, just like this, never having to let go. Not having to keep this as a memory. This could be my life from here on out and I would be happy.
Just stay… I whisper under my breath.
What, he asks.
Just stay… stay here… with me… like this, I say, looking into his eyes.
He looks back and fourth, looking into both of my eyes before answering. “Okay.”
With that, I slowly close my eyes, feeling his thumb softly going back and forth across my cheek.
***
My eyes shoot open at the sound of the garage door opening underneath my bedroom. Opening my eyes, I immediately see Ben’s sleeping face. We are both laying on our sides, facing each other, foreheads touching. His hand is barely hanging on to the side of my face, where I last remember feeling his touch.
Shit, I exclaim, shooting up out of bed, startling Ben.
He inhales deeply and stretches. “What is it, babe?”
He called me babe… Not now, Blake. More pressing matters await.
I think my dad’s home, I say, tossing him his discarded clothes. “Hurry and get dre-…”
I’m cut off by the site of his hard on as he removes the blankets from his body. I make an audible gulp, loud enough for him to hear. He looks up at me and sees what my attention is set on. Using his muscles, he makes it twitch under his boxers.
And, dear God, please do something about that before I get both of us in trouble, I say, a smile creeping across my face.
My thirst for Ben is currently outweighing the fear of my Dad walking upstairs and finding us like this.
I turn my back to him and bend down to pick up my own discarded clothes. I hear him get out of my bed and hear and feel his footsteps approaching me. Suddenly, Ben’s hands are gripping both of my hips and pulling me into his still hard member. I push myself back into it even harder. The seriousness of the situation at hand, of my Dad finding us up here, nearly naked, has disappeared into the far reaches of my mind. I’m not using my head right now, well, not the one on my shoulders anyway.
I stand up, my back pressed against Ben’s chest and crane my neck to look back at him as his hands begin exploring my abdomen and chest. I’m breathing heavy and am on the edge by this point. On the edge of stripping out of my boxers and ripping off Ben’s. When he bites my earlobe, I damn near go over the edge of the proverbial cliff.
I have to pull myself back into the now and the seriousness of the situation as I hear the garage door lower. That means my Dad’s vehicle is now in the garage and he is either walking into the kitchen or is already somewhere in the house.
Ben, I exhale a little too loudly, a little too sexually, “I want you so bad right now, but, if we don’t stop, my Dad will find us. And before he kicks my ass, he will probably kill you. So, please…” He grabs my hard dick through my boxerbriefs and squeezes it. “…Fuck. Ben, please,” I say, bumping my ass back into his groin – not in a sexual manner. I’m trying to push him off my body before we get caught. He’s so much stronger than I am, I can’t escape his clutch – not that I want to, I have to.
He finally releases me and lets out a rather sinister chuckle. I pull up my red Under Armour shorts and slide a plain white Hanes t-shirt over my head. I turn around to Ben as he lowers his own shirt over his head. He’s still smiling. My eyebrows raise as a serious look replaces the lust driven one I had a moment ago.
You just wait, Benny Boy. You’re gonna’ fucking pay for that, I say.
Oooooh, I’m trembling, he says, swatting my ass as I pass by him.
I stop dead in my tracks, look over my shoulder at him and cock an eyebrow. “Oh, I’ll have you trembling, alright.”
This time, it’s him who lets out an audible gulp.
Now, let’s go downstairs and act natural. We’ll say we were up here playing Xbox. One on one in Call of Duty, I whooped your ass, blah-blah-blah… I said, laying out the plan.
Please, babe. I’d own your ass, in more ways than one, he says with a wink.
Yeah, yeah. Okay, just do me a favor. Try not to act like you just had your dick rubbing up against my ass, I say, smiling.
Up against it… In it… Whatever… he says, with a cocky smirk.
I’ve never seen this flirty, jokey side of him before. I fucking love it. Makes me love him even more. I bring my hand back, threatening to swat him in the face. But, the smile on my face betrays me and calls my bullshit. I can’t help it, I pull him into my body, my hands around his waist.
I fucking love the shit out of you, you know that? I could just explode, I say, pressing my body into him.
He looks down at me with adoring eyes. The look on his face is sheer bliss.
The evidence of that ‘explosion’ is now a stain on your sheets, you know that, right, he says, smiling.
I remove my hands and playfully punch him in the chest. I go to turn around, but Ben grabs me from behind. He wraps his arms around my waist, his hands overlapping across my abdomen and pulls me back into him, not with a sexual undertone, but love. He rests his head on my shoulder, rubbing the side of his face into my hair.
You’re everything to me, Blake Abel.
He plants a kiss on my cheek as a knock comes from my door. Panic jolts through my entire body.
Oh, fuck!
I motion for Ben to go grab an Xbox controller. He does as he is told – he knows now is not the time to be cute. He grabs one of the black controllers, turns on the Xbox One and the TV in one fowl swoop, then plants his butt on the carpet.
Come in, I say, approaching Ben in a hurry to take a seat next to him.
The door handle jiggles. “It’s locked,” my mother’s voice says outside the door.
Oh, thank God. It’s not Dad.
Oh, sorry! Just a sec, I say standing up.
I walk over to the door, unlock it and back away, allowing my mother entry into my room. She steps in with a smile on her face.
Sorry, honey. I didn’t interrupt a jam session, did I, she asks.
I can’t help myself, I smirk, thinking, “No, just Ben jammin’ ‘dat dick up my ass,” in an Ebonic accent.
I snap out of it and answer her, “Nope. No jam session. Just hangin’ out with Ben,” I say, opening the door a bit more so she can see Ben sitting in front of the TV.
Oh, who do we have here, she asks, with a chipper tone in her voice.
Ben drops the controller, stands up and walks over to my mother with his right hand extended. She takes his hand in her’s as he introduces himself.
– BENJAMIN JAXON SMITH –
Hi. I’m Ben. Ben Smith. My family just moved in down the street.
Oh, yes! The old Wilson place. Good to see that house full again. It sat vacant for entirely too long! Good to meet you, Ben. As if it’s not entirely obvious, I’m the mother to this handsome young man.
Mrs. Foster grabs Blake around his shoulders and pulls him into her motherly embrace, planting a kiss on the side of his head. I can’t help but stand there and smile as Blake pushes away from her with embarrassment. Blood rushes to his face and his cheeks turn rose red.
God, I love when he blushes. He’s too damn cute. Too damn adorable.
Hello? Ben, honey?
Caught up in my adoration for Blake, I snap back to present time. I look at Blake, his eyebrows are raised, eyes slightly wide. He’s worried I’m going to blow our cover.
What was that, Mrs. Foster? I’m sorry, I say, smiling.
I was just telling Blake dinner will be ready in about an hour and that you’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.
I look at Blake for permission. He smiles and slightly nods his head yes.
That’d be great, Mrs. Foster, I say, smiling again.
Ugh, she says, sticking her tongue out like she just tasted something terrible. “You’re making me feel old with that ‘Mrs. Foster’ crap. Call me Kelly,” she says with a smile.
I nod at her and smile. She takes a deep breath, raises her eyebrows and takes a deep breath. “Alright! I’ll let you boys get back to business.”
I snicker under my breath as she steps out from the doorway. Blake quickly closes the door, pushing the lock again. He walks up to me and punches me in the arm.
Are you trying to blow it, Blake says in a serious tone.
No, I say, still snickering. “But, if you’re up for it.”
I pull him to me and dig the tips of my fingers into the waistband of his Under Armour shorts. He smacks my hands away.
Not now, handsome, he says, kissing me on the lips.
Yes, now, cutie, I say, pulling him back to me for an intense make out session.
– BLAKE ABEL FOSTER –
I literally have to pry myself away from him. This is all new to me, a loving relationship. A loving relationship with sex. I want it all and I want it now. I want him. But, I know better. As much as I want him right now, I know that not only would it be disrespectful to my parents, should one of them come barging in here while Ben’s balls deep in… well, you get the picture. But, it would also out me to my parents.
I’m not so sure I’m ready for that. My mother, I’m not too worried about. Her brother, my Uncle Jeremy, is gay. She’s always been very supportive of him and his lifestyle.
But, my father on the other hand, I’m petrified.
He is the definition of a man’s man. Tall, well built and in shape. He’s been a police officer for the Liberty Police Department for twelve years. While well accomplished in his line of work, years on the police force have put a strain on his and my mother’s marriage.
He’s one of those cops you always hear about – bringing the job home with him. Drowning his sorrows into the large bottle that’s in the cabinet above the refrigerator. He was a recovering alcoholic before joining the police force. The alcohol problem nearly caused a divorce years ago when he unintentionally broke my right arm.
I was only six at the time. We were in the backyard, and him being the manly man that he is, was teaching me how to play catch. I showed no interest in it. I would have much rather been in the house, playing video games.
He was on his sixth or seventh beer that afternoon and was nearly hammered. He threw the ball entirely too fast and too hard for someone of my size. So, after the fourth or fifth time I failed to catch it, he got angry. A slur of cuss words and, for some reason, homophobic comments poured from his mouth.
He approached me rather quickly, tossing his glove to the ground.
If you can’t catch the goddamn ball, you might as well give me that fucking glove back!
He grabbed my gloved hand and yanked so hard he pulled me forward along with him. I heard a sickening snap as i teetered over and hit the ground. The pain hit me like a ton of bricks and I could think of no other reaction other than crying.
My mother came tearing through the sliding glass door as soon as she heard my cry. She knew allowing my father to teach me how to play catch, while he was drunk was a bad idea. My father was standing over me asking if I was alright. The sick sounded snap and my crying popped him out of his drunken stupor and brought him into a groggy reality.
Blake, bud, I’m so sorry. Are you okay, he asked reaching down for me.
My mother pushed him out of the way and scooped me up into her arms, my chin resting on top of her shoulder, her hand caressing the back of my head. She turned and faced my father.
You son of a bitch. You ever lay a hand on my son again, I swear to God… she didn’t finish the sentence. She just loaded me into the vehicle and rushed me to the hospital.
Later that night, I heard them in the kitchen as I got up to use the bathroom.
…I told the doctors and nurses he fell off the slide at the park. I’m not lying for you ever again, Hank. If you don’t get this drinking problem of yours under control, Blake and I are leaving. I’d rather Blake grow up with a broken family rather than go on living with a drunk, abusive father and a blind mother.
She stormed past the dark hallway I was standing in, completely oblivious to the fact that I was there. I peeked around the corner and saw Dad sitting at the kitchen table, elbows resting on the table, his hands covering his face as he cried his heart out.
My father began going to A. A. meetings that week. Then, later on that autumn, he enrolled in the police academy.
Earth to Blake, Ben says, waving an Xbox One controller in my face. I snap out of it, and look at him. “Welcome back to the here and now, cutie. Ready to see how I’ve master prestiged more than once in Call of Duty,” he asks, smiling and raising his eyebrows a few times.
I smile at him and grab the controller he hands me. My finger brushes the side of his hand as I look up at him.
I love you, Ben, I say, tears forming in my eyes.
I’ve already come to the realization, I do need Ben. I need all of him. Just those few minutes while my mother was in the room with us, I wish I could have introduced him as my boyfriend – not just a buddy. I don’t want to hide our love anymore than I need to. Tonight, after he leaves, I’m going to come out to my parents.
I love you, too, babe, he says, smiling that handsome smile.
Author’s Note: As always, hit that positive rating button for your boys (Blake and Ben) and leave me some comments! They always mean a lot to me!
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