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Gay Stories
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Gay Male / 22
A Little Bit About Me, And My 'find' When My Uncle Died
After my uncle died my mom sent me to my aunts to help her clean out the house for sale. There were bags and bags of trash, bags and bags of things for Goodwill. Shoes, and suits. And a whole lot of things that just weren't worth any money, from their trips. Fifty years of stuff. My aunt had a hard time with getting rid of it.
I was the one that had to go up in the attic. I got Christmas stuff down. Old boxes of National Geographics, dusty and some water stained from the roof. Boxes of stuff, electronic stuff from earlier generations. I found an old suitcase, and pulled it out. It was heavy so I opened it, and found some stuff. Magazines of naked girls, magazines of naked men. Books, novels of gay men, novels of women, dirty novels. With very explicit paragraphs. I sat and read a lot of them, I would hustle up to the attic and go through the books, the magazines. I jerked off to naked men, I wanted to hold a naked cock and suck on a man, jerking off made me want to even more. I took the suitcase home with me.
As the house emptied, and I had emptied out the attic, I found this painting facing the wall. It was dusty and old. It was a painting from 1956 by a guy named Paul. A painting of a hard cock, in gold, on black velvet. A painting of a hard cock, with precum reflecting the light. It was like 24 by 28, in a frame. I fell in love with it, and had to sneak it out in a trash bag and take it home. I hid it under the bed, and the suitcase in the garage behind the Christmas decorations.
I jerked off like crazy before I left home to go to college. I took some of the books and magazines with me. After I moved into an apartment I took the painting and hung it over my bed. I worshipped at that cock. When the air went out, and the technician came, he stood and admired my painting. He let out his cock, and jerked it until he was hard and squeezed a drop out, and held the same position. The man of my dreams, and I sucked his cock until he had to have more, and I put my ass up for him under the watchful eye of my painting and he took first honors and punched my card.
I was the one that had to go up in the attic. I got Christmas stuff down. Old boxes of National Geographics, dusty and some water stained from the roof. Boxes of stuff, electronic stuff from earlier generations. I found an old suitcase, and pulled it out. It was heavy so I opened it, and found some stuff. Magazines of naked girls, magazines of naked men. Books, novels of gay men, novels of women, dirty novels. With very explicit paragraphs. I sat and read a lot of them, I would hustle up to the attic and go through the books, the magazines. I jerked off to naked men, I wanted to hold a naked cock and suck on a man, jerking off made me want to even more. I took the suitcase home with me.
As the house emptied, and I had emptied out the attic, I found this painting facing the wall. It was dusty and old. It was a painting from 1956 by a guy named Paul. A painting of a hard cock, in gold, on black velvet. A painting of a hard cock, with precum reflecting the light. It was like 24 by 28, in a frame. I fell in love with it, and had to sneak it out in a trash bag and take it home. I hid it under the bed, and the suitcase in the garage behind the Christmas decorations.
I jerked off like crazy before I left home to go to college. I took some of the books and magazines with me. After I moved into an apartment I took the painting and hung it over my bed. I worshipped at that cock. When the air went out, and the technician came, he stood and admired my painting. He let out his cock, and jerked it until he was hard and squeezed a drop out, and held the same position. The man of my dreams, and I sucked his cock until he had to have more, and I put my ass up for him under the watchful eye of my painting and he took first honors and punched my card.
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