Submission: Gay Erotic Tales- Book 2

Double the fun, anxious to experiment

The energy of the music is what drove most people to the doors of the club Crush, and that was on account of Jake and his crazy mixing skills. I still couldn't believe Jake had managed to swing me a job behind the bar, not on some shitty weekday shifts, but on weekends.

It made me wonder who Jake had fucked to secure me the spot.

Not that I cared, of course. We weren't together.

Jake and I had only fucked around that one afternoon. Several times, mind you, but that had happened last week, and I hadn't talked to him since. Not until he'd phoned me about the job.

I looked toward the DJ booth as I emptied the dishwasher and caught Jake's attention. I winked at him playfully, which made him grin.

There was a strong possibility my job security was going to rely heavily on my job performance, and not the kind happening by mixing drinks behind the bar.

I hadn't told Jake that the afternoon he'd picked me up at the beach, and fucked me in every possible position I ever could've imagined, was my first time with a guy.

He hadn't suspected, and I wasn't about to tell him.

A tingle ran down my spine and furled in my gut, stiffening my cock as I remembered my first time. Jake was an incredible lover. If I had to let him fuck me every night after work to keep this job, I would have absolutely no objections.

My new boss, Dylan, clapped his hands in front of my face. "Hey, Connor. Snap out of it."

"Sorry." I got back to work drying and setting out the rest of the beer glasses I'd unloaded. I was about to pop them into the fridge to cool them off when Dylan nudged me.

"Can you head downstairs and check on that finicky keg I told you about?" he asked as he pulled one of the tap levers multiple times to no avail. "The fucking thing isn't working again."

"Yeah, sure."

I wasn't a fan of scurrying around in basements. Especially dark, creepy basements beneath noisy nightclubs where no one would hear you scream if you were attacked by some random drunk wandering patron. Or worse. Some kind of ghostly apparition.

The club was in a centuries-old industrial building.

I stuffed my hands into my jean's pockets as I navigated my way through the basement to the back where the kegs were hooked up, not wanting my digits trailing at my sides in the near darkness. An icy cold gush of air drifted around my body, tickling my ears and disturbing the delicate threads of a nearby cobweb.

I shivered. Goosebumps puckered the skin on my forearms and frightened the little hairs on the back of my neck to full attention as my mind leaped to all sorts of crazy conclusions regarding the cause of the disturbance in the otherwise dank, motionless air occupying the basement.

Stop it.

I really needed to think about curtailing my appetite for late-night ghost hunting shows.

I jumped as a loud sound from overhead reverberated through the floor above me. Judging by how far I'd walked, I placed myself somewhere beneath the DJ booth. Jake must've hopped down from his post to get a drink or hit the washroom for a piss.

I swore as my foot connected with one of the heavy beer kegs. The image of Jake snaking his gorgeous cock out of his pants in the washroom above had totally distracted me. I'd spent hours worshipping that cock. If I concentrated, I could still feel its smooth, hardness sliding through my lips and caressing my tongue.

Fuck.

Cut it out.

I needed to concentrate on fixing the keg. I sat on the edge of the first keg and leaned sideways to reach the temperamental one. I could work on one of these things in my sleep, so my mind wandered as I shut the valve and pulled the attachment apart.

I'd known for a long time I was gay. Even back in high school, I'd made a point of joining every possible sports team and taking physical education long past the grade required for graduation. All to be able to sneak glimpses of other guys' cocks in the shower so I could collect plenty of visuals to jerk off to later.

But that was before I'd discovered the plethora of gay porn available on the internet. Unearthing this treasure trove had taken me to the very edge of ecstasy for two reasons. One …I no longer had to play asinine sports, which I'd hated with a passion for as long as I could remember, and two …I could watch two, or more, guys fucking each other as I jerked off.

Priceless. Absolutely fucking priceless. I could kiss the guy that invented the internet.

A measure of beer spilled down my wrist.

Stupid fucking thing.

I tapped the plastic hose on the edge of the keg, then peered into it. It was completely clear. The problem had to be with the valve. It most likely needed to be replaced, but club owners were notoriously cheap when it came to maintaining equipment. I could probably do a temporary fix on it myself. I'd passed a toolbox on the way in. If I pulled the valve apart, cleaned all the crud out of it, then put it back together, it should work for a while longer.

I stood and turned straight into Jake.

"Holy fuck, Jake!"

Jake smiled. Immediately disarming me and sending a warm tingle through to my balls.

Fuck he's hot.

"Sorry," Jake said. "I thought you would've heard me."

"I was a little distracted."

"By these kegs?" Jake knocked on one, filling the basement with a baritone wave of sound.

I blushed.

Luckily, the lighting in the basement was dim, or I would've been blushing deeper in embarrassment for …blushing.

Shit.

Jake's close proximity to my body turned my insides all wobbly, but I needed to get back to work. "I need to fix this valve," I said, skirting around Jake to go find the toolbox.

"Why?"

"Because it's broken." I threw the toolbox down on the ground next to the keg. Jake stopped me from lifting the valve.

"What will happen if you don't fix it," he asked.

"We would have no amber ale on tap."

"So …"

I shrugged.

"Dylan would be pissed," I added.

"No, I wouldn't," Dylan said as he stepped up behind me.

My heart hammered up into my throat, and I grabbed onto the nearest support post to steady myself. My nerves were officially shot.

"Fuck, you guys," I said. "Could you cough or something instead of sneaking up on me and scaring me half to death?"

"I don't know," Jake replied, moving closer and cupping my face in his hand. "I kind of like it when you're all flustered and scared like this." He brushed a thumb across my lips, then popped it into my mouth, hauling my jaw open and playing with my tongue. "What do you think, Dylan?"

"Mm …let's see," Dylan said as the hardness of his jean-covered cock pressed against the crease in my ass.

Oh fuck, yes.

I leaned my head back against Dylan's chest.