Best of the Best Gay Erotica

by Richard Labonté

  “Ma’s made smothered pork chops. She says that always was a favorite of yours.”

  Cousin Earl nods in assent. Big Brother expected him to show up in uniform, but when he stepped off the idling Greyhound, he was wearing a tan polo shirt and poplin windbreaker. He’s older than Big Brother’s memory of him, of course, and a little heavier, but handsome in an unpretentious, masculine way.

  When they walk up to the front door, dinner’s already on the table. Mama seems bubblingly happy to see Earl again, though for his part, he’s a little more reserved. He remains distant over dinner. The conversation moves in fits and starts; the boys have been instructed not to bring up Korea, where, apparently, Something Terrible happened to Cousin Earl.

  It’s still pretty early when Cousin Earl says, “I’m beat. I think I’ll head off to bed.”

  Big Brother heads up to the bedroom with him, sits cross-legged on the bed while the older man strips down to his underwear. Cousin Earl is hairier than he is, has thick, nicely muscled legs covered with reddish fur. The deep U-neck of his undershirt reveals a tangled patch of chest hair. The bulky outline of his dick is clearly visible through his briefs. Cousin Earl wraps himself in a terry robe and heads off to shower. Big Brother goes over to Little Brother’s bed and picks up the tan polo shirt. The dark stains in the underarms are still moist. He buries his face in his cousin’s sweat. For a reason he can’t quite admit to himself, he inhales the musky-sour odor and holds in the breath. It’s almost too hot to sleep.

  “Nice car.”

  “It’s the best thing Daddy left us.” He thinks, It’s damn near the only thing Daddy left us.

  They’re driving to the river over by McCullers’ Landing. In the three days since his arrival, Cousin Earl’s started to open up a little bit. About how glad he is to be back in the States. About the girlfriend he left behind in Mobile. Playing football in college. About growing up an orphan, being bounced from one foster home to another. But nothing about Korea. And Big Brother hasn’t dared to ask.

  “Shit, it’s hot.”

  “Sure enough.”

  In the awkward silences, you can hear the radio talking about Senator McCarthy ferreting out Commies in the State Department. Then an ad for furniture sold to returning vets on easy time payments. Then Eisenhower starts to talk.

  Part of the awkwardness, Big Brother knows but can never ever say, comes from knowing how he’s lain awake just a few feet away from his sleeping cousin, listening to his steady breaths, watching his moonlit body shift beneath a thin percale sheet. I ain’t a fairy, Big Brother thinks, but if I ain’t a fairy, then what the hell is going on?

  They park by the roadhouse on the edge of town and walk through the woods to the river. Big Brother, walking behind, can’t keep his eyes off his cousin’s hairy, freckled legs, shorts revealing the play of muscles, solid calves and thighs. When they get to the river, Cousin Earl right off strips buck naked, T-shirt first, then khaki shorts. It’s the first time Big Brother has seen his naked ass, the thick red fur running down the crack, and when Cousin Earl bends over to pick up his shorts, his big hairy balls hang low between his pale upper thighs. “Well, c’mon then. Git yer clothes off.”

  Now he’s turned around. His dick. His big man-dick.

  “Shorts, too. What’s the matter, you shy?”

  “I’ll take ’em off when I’m darn good and ready.”

  “Only teasin’ you. So is it deep enough here to dive in?”

  “Plenty deep.”

  Cousin Earl runs to the riverbank, big dick flopping, and jumps in. Big Brother joins him seconds later, relieved to find that the shock of the cold water shrinks his swelling prick back down.

  “Hey, Earl, let’s go. Mmff...” Big Brother holds his breath as his head is forced beneath the water. Struggling his way back up, he brushes his arms against his cousin’s dick. It’s the first time he’s ever felt another guy’s peter and it’s all he can do not to reach for it. He tries to wrestle back, but after a short tussle the older man easily overpowers him, grabs his arms, and pins him against his heaving torso. He can feel Earl’s muscular chest and belly up against his back.

  “I give, I give.”

  By and by they get out of the river, return to the grassy bank. Cousin Earl flops himself down on the ground, lies on his back with his arms crossed behind his head and his legs spread wide. As the blazing sun warms and dries him, Big Brother’s hefty dick stirs lazily between his legs. He’s glad he’s kept his own shorts on.

  “Hey, Earl,” he says at last, “don’t you think it’s time to be getting back?”

  Next day things are tense at the breakfast table. Cousin Earl has just told everybody he won’t be going to church with them. He’s stopped just short of admitting he’s an outright atheist.

  Mama is chattering as she serves Little Brother his grits and eggs. “So Earl, I told Freddie Wooten down at the American Legion that of course you’ll march with them in tomorrow’s parade.” Tomorrow is Memorial Day. Cousin Earl says nothing.

  Big Brother is short on sleep. The night before, the thought of Cousin Earl’s dick rubbing against his arm kept him awake long after the lights were out. When he was finally sure that Earl was asleep, he humped the mattress till he shot his wad, wiping up the sticky mess with a crusted-up old sock he kept beneath the bed. Bleary-eyed, he takes a swallow of coffee and says, “Mama, he don’t have to march if he don’t want to.” Awkward silence.

  “Of course I’ll march,” says Cousin Earl flatly.

  “Of course he’ll march,” says Little Brother.

  All the fat ladies in big hats are fanning themselves incessantly, futilely trying to chase away the heat. Sitting in the stifling closeness of the church he’s attended since he was a child, sitting there praying next to his mother, who’s taking in washing to keep the little family together, Big Brother is thrown into confusion. He does not want to feel this way about his cousin, he does not want to be a homo. Waves of sexual guilt overwhelm him. After services, Big Brother waits till his family has left the church and goes up to the Reverend.

  “Reverend,” he says, real low so the Reverend’s wife won’t hear, “I got something I got to talk to you about.”

  “Why surely, son,” says the Reverend, with a gracious smile. “What is it?”

  “It’s important, sir, and it’s private.”

  “Well, perhaps you can meet me at the rectory this afternoon at one.” Another gracious smile.

  At one o’clock sharp Big Brother is at the door to the rectory. Mama’s taken Little Brother to O’Connorsburg to see the new Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis movie, a special treat. Cousin Earl is out somewhere.

  The Reverend ushers the boy into his sweltering office and shuts and bolts the door.

  “So, son, is something troubling you?”

  Big Brother, stumbling over the words, explains about Cousin Earl, about feelings that he hasn’t asked for, can’t handle. By the time he gets to the part about swimming in the river, there’s been a noticeable change in the Reverend’s demeanor. His fixed smile has disappeared, and he’s moved so close that Big Brother can feel his peppermint-scented breath. A glittering drop of sweat hangs from the tip of his nose. “So you touched his penis, son?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Say ‘I touched his penis.’ ”

  “I touched his penis, sir.”

  “How did you touch it? Like this?”

  Big Brother is frozen. The Reverend’s hand has clamped onto his crotch. Sweat pours down the Reverend’s face. Big Brother wishes he would take his hand away, wants it with all his heart, but the awful truth is that the Reverend’s hand feels pretty good there. When the Reverend unzips his fly and reaches in, he offers no resistance. Big Brother closes his eyes in pleasure.

  There’s a knock at the door.

  “Would you fellas like some nice, cool lemonade?” It’s the Reverend’s wife.

  “No than
k you, dear,” the Reverend says in a kind of strangled voice.

  The Reverend’s wife clacks off down the hall. The Reverend has an awful funny look on his face. He hangs on to Big Brother’s hard dick a few seconds more, then jerks away like he was hit by an electric shock. “Just go, son,” he says, standing up with his back toward Big Brother, “and don’t tell anyone about this ever. Not if you want your own feelings to remain a secret. Not if you want your mama not to know. You understand, son?”

  “Yes, sir,” says Big Brother.

  The walk from the rectory takes him through the center of town, past the Chat ’N’ Chew and the Will O’ the Wisp General Store. Past the road that leads to the colored folks’ shacks that stand, like an open secret, out on the edge of town. He knows now that there’s no one he can trust with his awful secret, with the ugly, sinful mess his life’s become. By the time he reaches the white stucco house, he knows what he has to do.

  Dear Mama,

  I have decided to go away for a while. I do not know where so please do not try to find me or nothing. Do not worry, Mama, I can take care of myself. Tell Cousin Earl good-bye and tell Little Brother that I will see him soon. Please do not be angry. I love you, Mama.

  Signed,

  Your son

  When he finishes the letter, he gets up from the kitchen table and goes to his room. Letter in hand, he opens the door. The shades are down. Cousin Earl is asleep, lying sprawled on his back, a sheet barely covering the lower part of his naked body. Even in the dim light, it’s easy to see that Cousin Earl’s dick is hard.

  Big Brother can scarcely breathe. He stands for a good long time, staring at where Earl’s coppery belly hair trails off under the sheet. Gently, he moves his fingertips down to his cousin’s armpit, where a flurry of red hair rises from skin shiny with sweat. He strokes the hair, then brings his fingers to his nose, inhaling the deep male musk. Touching the sleeping man’s chest, he runs his fingers over a hard pink nipple, down to Earl’s belly, to the edge of the sheet. Earl stirs, but remains asleep; his quiet breathing fills the humid room. Slowly, Big Brother moves his hand over the sheet until his palm hovers over the hard dick. He can feel the body heat radiating from the stiff rod. He slowly lowers his hand till it lightly rests upon his cousin’s hard-on. Reflexively, Earl arches upward, pushing his meat against Big Brother’s hand. The sheet shifts, revealing Earl’s swollen dickhead.

  With painstaking care, Big Brother lowers the sheet till he can see all of Earl’s cock; the large piss-slit, the retracted foreskin, the big pinkish shaft bulging with veins, the luxuriant, bright red bush. Big Brother bends until his face is just inches from the hard penis, till he can inhale the smells of his cousin’s sweaty crotch.

  Earl’s hand descends gently but firmly on the back of Big Brother’s head, pushing face against cock. Big Brother’s nose is buried in pubic hair. The hand relaxes, allowing him to run his lips up the underside of the shaft, up to the softly throbbing head.

  “Why don’t you take your clothes off, boy? It’s awful hot. It’s hot as shit.”

  Big Brother, naked, positions his head between Earl’s thighs, resumes his exploration of the big, meaty cock. When he sticks the tip of his tongue in the glistening piss-slit, Earl bucks his hips and raises his knees. The eighteen-year-old moves his mouth down the dick, down to the hairy, wrinkled ballsac. He tongues his cousin’s balls, then licks the sweat-soaked ridge between Earl’s legs, moving his tongue until it’s up against his cousin’s hole. He can feel Cousin Earl open up for him. He swirls his tongue around the earthy-tasting hole, then stiffens his tongue and pushes as far in as he can go and Earl can’t stop moaning. Jacking his dick now, Earl screams, “Aww, FUCK!” and comes all over his belly. Big Brother pulls his head from between Earl’s thighs, throws himself full length on Cousin Earl’s body. His tongue pries apart his cousin’s lips. And he humps Earl’s hairy belly, slippery with cum and sweat, till with a shudder he shoots, pumping a load of hot cum between their bodies. Kneeling, he rubs his face in the salty stew of their sweat and cum, lapping it hungrily. Then, with a final deep kiss, he curls up in the older man’s arms, his face buried in Earl’s warm armpit.

  He’s almost asleep when he hears a noise out in the hallway. Mama and Little Brother are back; he must not have heard the Buick drive up. He’s just managed to wipe up and slip into dungarees when his mama calls from downstairs, “How you boys doing? Y’all hungry for supper?”

  Big Brother picks up the letter to his mama from where it’s fallen to the floor and rips it up into a million pieces.

  At the dinner table, Little Brother seems real quiet, real distant. Earl, though, is more animated than Big Brother’s ever seen him, which is lucky since he himself, caught up in a muddy swirl of emotions, barely says a word.

  “So I figured,” says Earl between bites of fried chicken,

  “I’d head back down to Mobile and ask Muriel if she’ll marry me. Golly, you’d like her. She’s a real pretty girl.”

  Little Brother pulls a face.

  That evening Big Brother and Cousin Earl go for a ride in the Buick. Sitting there beside his cousin, watching the headlights slice through the night, Big Brother tries to feel guilt, tries to ease it out like his tongue toys with a loose tooth. But all he can feel is happy. “Do you reckon,” he says finally, “that what we did was wrong?”

  “Big Brother,” says Earl, his voice strangely gentle, “after all the things I’ve seen, I’ve clean given up on trying to figure out sin.”

  Cousin Earl has been driving down the dirt road to the river. He pulls off to the side of the road, kills the lights. “You don’t have to do nothing more with me. Not ever,” he says. “But I want to,” says Big Brother real quietly, laying his hand on his cousin’s muscular thigh. Both their dicks are already hard. Earl reaches over to unbutton Big Brother’s fly, bends to take his cousin’s dick in his mouth.

  “Damn, that feels good,” says Big Brother, and it’s true; he never felt anything so good in his entire life. Earl takes his dick deep down in his throat, backs off, using his tongue to caress dickflesh, then plunges all the way back down, swallowing the shaft.

  “Let’s get out of the car.” The scent of night-blooming jasmine hangs heavy in the air. Big Brother leans against the car door, dungarees down around his ankles, while the older man takes him in his mouth again. Big Brother feels Earl’s hands on his butt, spreading his asscheeks apart. When he feels fingers on his hole, he freezes up for a minute before he decides that it’s all right and relaxes into the heat of his feelings. Earl takes a second to spit in his hand and then eases a finger up inside his cousin. Big Brother is surprised by how good it feels, how much he wants Earl inside him.

  “I got some hair tonic in the glove compartment,” he says. He reaches in the open window, gets out the bottle of Wildroot Cream Oil and hands it to his cousin, who’s buck naked now, hairy body gleaming in the watery moonlight. Earl gets his big dick all slicked up with hair tonic and gives it a few hard squeezes till it’s standing straight up against his belly. “Turn around and bend over,” he says, and Big Brother leans on over, onto the still-warm hood of the car. He feels Earl’s oily thumb massaging the tight ring of his asshole. “I’m just gonna open you up real gentle,” Earl says, pushing in a couple fingers, rotating them until the muscles give way. Big Brother moans. He wants to be fucked. He wants to be fucked real bad.

  When Earl slips the head of his dick inside, it hardly hurts Big Brother at all. And when Earl sinks the length of his shaft all the way in, waves of pleasure wash over Big Brother. Crickets cry loud through the sultry night.

  “You all the way inside me?”

  “Sure am, boy.”

  Big Brother reaches back to check that it’s true. Cousin Earl’s big, furry bush is smack up against his butt. He pulls his hand back to his face, sniffing in the mix of hair tonic and his own ass juices.

  Earl is banging away now, and every time he slams into Big Brother’s ass, the teenager’s swe
at-soaked torso slides across the Buick’s well-waxed hood. Earl grabs hold of Big Brother’s hips and pumps harder.

  Just when Big Brother is wondering whether he can take much more of this, Cousin Earl starts bucking real fast, yells “Aww, JESUS!” and shoots his hot load deep into his young cousin’s ass.

  When he gets up off the car hood, Big Brother feels weak in the knees. He leans up against the car door and Earl is immediately down on his knees, taking Big Brother’s half-hard cock in his mouth, sucking it expertly till it expands down his throat, till it explodes with a rush of cum down his throat, cum as sweet as pecan pie.

  When they walk in the front door, Mama is waiting there, still wearing the flowered apron she wears to do the dishes, grief and anger on her face. She’s been crying. “Little Brother has told me what you two have been up to,” Mama says. “How could you, Earl? How could you do that to my boy?”

  Big Brother drags himself awake after a night of fitful sleep. He’s been dreaming of someone—a senator, a preacher—yelling at him and grabbing at him. He slugs the man, but just before the man disappears, he turns into Cousin Earl, who smiles and takes him up in his big, strong arms.

  Big Brother looks around the familiar room. Suddenly he jerks himself fully awake. The bed next to him is empty. All Cousin Earl’s things are gone.

  It’s only when he makes his bed that he discovers a letter slipped under his pillow.

  Dear Big Brother,

  Your mama don’t know that I’m writing you this. I am real sorry that I got you in trouble. Do not blame your brother for spying on us yesterday afternoon, nor for telling your mama. Whatever happened is all my fault, and I know that going away for a while is the best thing I can do. Maybe your mama is right and you should go talk to the Reverend about changing your ways. I do not know.