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Love In An Elevator

A young gay man finds himself trapped in an elevator with a girl over a long holiday weekend.
It was Christmas Eve, a Friday. I had just got paid and hadn't even started my Christmas shopping. I'm bad about that. I have a large family, dozens of nieces and nephews, and lots of friends to buy gifts for. Unfortunately, I had about two hours to shop before all the stores closed for the holiday.

I waited in line at the bank to cash my paycheck so that I could go shopping. After about 30 minutes, I finally stepped up to the teller, who had some bad news.

“It appears that your account is overdrawn by 2,342 dollars,” the teller said.

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed. “How can that be?”

“It looks like there were some charges made in Las Vegas, some airline tickets, hotel reservations...”

“I never went to Las Vegas,” I said. “I can't afford to rub two sticks together let alone travel! Someone has obviously stolen my identity.”

“That's very common these days,” the teller said. “You'll need to go to our fraud department upstairs on the 10th floor.”

“Great!” I said. “And when does that office close?”

The teller looked at the clock.

“In about five minutes,” she said. “And it's Friday before a holiday, so I'd hurry up and get upstairs if I were you.”

“Thanks,” I said, as I quickly turned to leave.

I noticed a young girl, who couldn't have been more than eight or nine, sitting alone in a chair in the waiting area. She was crying. As much as I wanted to stop and find out what was wrong with her or why her parents weren't around, I needed to get upstairs before they closed.

I saw that the elevator was about to close so I ran as quickly as I could. A young, attractive-looking woman was kind enough to hold the door for me.

“What floor are you going to?” she asked.

“10th floor,” I said.

She then pressed the button for the 10th floor and the elevator door closed.

“Identity theft,” I said. “Can you believe that?”

The woman smiled.

“Someone took all my money and ran off to Vegas!”

She smiled again.

“Sorry. I forgot you're not supposed to have conversations in elevators. I'll just keep my mouth shut.”

Suddenly, I heard an electrical snap and the elevator stopped moving.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Oh shit!” the woman said. “We're stuck!”

“Don't panic,” I said. “That's what these phones are for.”

I opened the emergency phone box and pulled out the phone. But it was dead. I tried pressing the bell button, but the electrical short had apparently taken out the entire panel. I pulled out my cell phone and tried to dial 911, but there was no signal.

“So what are we gonna do?” The woman asked.

“I guess we just wait,” I said. “There must be an alarm tripped somewhere. Somebody has to know we're stuck in here.”

Minutes later, there was still no response. I looked at the time on my cell phone and noticed that it was now after closing. Now it was time to panic.

The two of us beat on the door and screamed for help. But no help came.

We had now been trapped in the elevator for over an hour. I looked up and noticed that the fan was still blowing.

“At least we know we won't suffocate,” I said. “But it's Friday, it's Christmas Eve, and I don't think anyone's going to be in this building until Monday morning. This sucks.”

Once again, we banged on the door. Once again, nothing.

“I'm Emily,” she said.

“I'm Josh,” I said.

“This is a shitty way to meet, isn't it?” Emily said.

“Tell me about it.”

Resigned to what appeared to be a weekend trapped in an elevator, I sat down and opened my back pack. I carried it around with me the way a woman carries her purse. I reached in and grabbed a bag of chips and a bottle of water.

“Want some chips?” I asked Emily.

“How's that for Christmas dinner?” she laughed.

“So what do you do?” she asked.

“I'm a tech geek. I fix computers,” I said. “And when I'm not doing that, I'm hanging out at the bars with the drama queens.”

“So you're...”


“I never would have guessed that,” she said. “I picture gay guys as skinny, sharply know, little prissy guys. You're so...”

“Go ahead and say it...big and husky,” I said, throwing the empty potato chip bag at her.

“That's not what I meant,” she said.

“Sure it is,” I said. “It's what everybody means. I can't seem to have a relationship with a guy because most guys look at me and want me to be their top, but I'm a total bottom.”

“I'm sorry,” Emily said. “I'm not sure what that means.”

“It's probably better off that way.”

“I have a friend who's gay,” she said. “I've known him since high school. I had the biggest crush on him. I even tried to turn him straight. But it didn't work.”

“Gay guys just don't go straight,” I said. “Lesbians, on the other hand, can't seem to figure out whether they're gay, straight, bi, or whatever. Personally, no offense, but I just couldn't go there with a girl.”

“That's too bad,” she said, smiling.

I cracked a nervous smile but quickly wanted to change the subject. She could tell.

“So being a computer guy, I bet you like to play games.”

“Yeah, World of Warcraft, Everquest...”

“I love World of Warcraft!” Emily said.

“Do you?” I said. “If we ever get out of here alive, we just might have to hang out.”

“I'd like that.”

“But I'm not going straight for you,” I laughed.

She laughed, but suddenly that laughter turned to panic.

“Oh my God!” she said.

“What's wrong?”

“What are we supposed to do if nature calls?” she asked.

“Oh fuck!” I said, not knowing at all what to do. “You don't have to go now, do you?”

“Yes, I do!”

I took off my shirt and handed it to her.

“What's this for?”

“Put it in the corner and do your business on it. Then bundle it up so it doesn't smell.”

“You mean I've got to pee on your shirt with you right here next to me?”

“It's not like I can go anywhere,” I said. “I'll turn my head.”

“I don't know if I can...”

“Just do it,” I told her.

I turned away so that she could have whatever measure of privacy was possible in a 4x8 elevator.

“You done?” I asked.

She took off her shirt and bundled it with my shirt. I turned around and was shocked to see her wearing only her bra above her waist.

“What?” she said. “It's not like I have to worry about you trying to make a move on me.”

She took the bundle of shirts and placed them into the emergency phone box.

“And what if I have to go?” I asked.

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

It was now Midnight. Christmas morning, technically. And here I was with Emily, stuck in an elevator for several hours now. We had talked most of the evening about trivial things, like computer games and books we like to read. Both of us are sci-fi fans. Then the conversation turned to more serious and personal matters.

She told me had at one time been with an abusive boyfriend. Because of that, she doesn't trust too many straight men. She revealed that most of her guy friends are gay because they don't expect anything from her. But she admitted that she's also attracted to men who she can't have because they're gay.

I told her about my crazy life too. I came out in my teens. Dad wasn't thrilled and wished I wasn't gay and still hoped that this was just a phase. But at the same time he loved me for who I was and the few boyfriends that I've had have been welcome at all family functions. I also told her that I didn't date too many men because they tended to be attracted to my solid, masculine “top-like” appearance, but once they figured out that I was a bottom who liked to be submissive in the relationship, they usually bail. So I had instead found a small group of friends who served as my gay family. And I was happy with my life.

Emily kept staring at my bare chest. It was driving me nuts. I felt naked in a way. I caught a few quick glances of her nipples beneath the bra, but there was really no interest.

“So are you athletic?” she asked. “You look like you work out.”

“I used to play football in high school,” I said. “but that was mostly so I could be part of the locker room scene. Nowadays, I just try to stay in shape.”

We were in the middle of a conversation and nature called...again. This time, with me.

“Would you mind turning your head?” I asked.

“Oh no,” she said. “Not that time again.”

“Afraid so,” I said, as I took off my jeans and placed them in the corner so that I could relieve myself. When I was finished, I bundled them up and stuffed them into the call box, next to our previously soiled clothes. Now I was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. This was really embarrassing.

“Tell you one thing,” I said. “Monday morning when they open that door and see us sitting here in our underwear, we're going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

And there we sat, two strangers half-naked in an elevator...and it was Christmas morning.

We continued to converse, by now mostly going back over things we had already covered. Our life stories had been told, so now we were just filling out the finer details.

“So I'm going to put you on the spot,” Emily said. “What was your first time?”

“Uh oh, “I said. “Not the old truth or dare routine.”

“Come on,” she said. “Answer the question.”

“Okay, here goes...”

“High school. It was a senior leadership retreat. It was held at this very fancy hotel and I met this guy, Jim. We became fast friends and hung out most of the day. We went to seminars together, ate lunch together, and then we went to hang out in a supply closet. We started talking about being gay in high school, how I helped form my school's gay-straight alliance, and all that stuff. Then we started talking about guys and the conversation got into what we would like to do with them.

“Finally, he pulled out his dick and asked if I wanted to suck it.”

“Did you?” Emily asked.

“Oh yeah. It was great. He erupted like Vesuvius.”

“When I was 16, there was this older dude Jason, who I used to hang out with. He was totally straight. But one day we were out walking in the desert and he whipped it out and asked me to suck it. I didn't.

“Then a couple days later, we were in his room. He whipped it out again. He started jerking off in my face and asked if I wanted to try it. Still my answer was no.

“Then, the night before I moved here, Jason and I were laying out in his front yard, just talking. He started playing with his dick again and asked if I wanted to touch it. He told me I might not ever get another chance. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. And it's not that I didn't find him attractive. It's just that I wasn't ready for that.”

Then I felt a hand reach into the hole in my boxers. I didn't try to stop her.

“You might not ever get another chance,” Emily said.

She reached into my boxers and pulled out my dick, which was quickly getting hard. I didn't say anything. I just let her play with it.

“So tell me more,” She said, as her fingers gently caressed my shaft.

“There's not much more to tell,” I replied. “I haven't been with a whole lot of guys. Like I said, most of the time, we're good on paper and all that, but in the bedroom it just doesn't work out most of the time.”

“Have you ever been with a girl?” She asked.

“No,” I said. “Never tried. Never really wanted to.”

Pre-cum began to seep from the end of my dick. I felt a fingernail gently wipe it off. The sensation made me shiver.

“You're okay with this?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said. “It feels good.”

What was strange about this whole situation is that I allowed her to do something I rarely ever allow a guy to do. Usually, when a guy starts playing with my dick, I usually turn over and try to get him to play with my ass. But I was really enjoying this.

Instead of turning over for some ass attention as I would usually do, I pulled down my boxers and took hold of the back of her head and guided it down to my dick. She eagerly took my cock into her mouth. Her tongue gently and sensuously moved around my shaft, stimulating me in all the right places. I had never had this much enjoyment with a guy. I never realized my dick could feel so good.

After several minutes of the most heavenly blow job I had ever received (and the only one that I thoroughly enjoyed), she finally finished. We both faced each other.

“That was great,” I said.

“Don't worry,” she said. “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Well,” I said, “here we are. It's Christmas morning. We're stuck here in this elevator. I'm sitting here butt-naked and you're wearing nothing but panties and a bra.”

“Let's go all the way,” she said.

“What?” I asked, “you mean as in...”

“If you want to,” she said.

I had nothing to lose. So I went for it.

I took off her bra and her panties and the two of us laid down on the elevator floor, missionary style. On top of her, I kissed her. The feeling was amazing. Her soft breasts pushed up against my firm chest as we lay there, kissing and caressing.

Then I took hold of my dick and stuck it into her pussy. I began to thrust my manhood deep into her as we continued to kiss. Every part of my body felt like it was on fire.

As I pounded her cunt, it tightened around my dick and it was pure ecstasy. I continued fucking her until I came. I couldn't bring myself to pull out. I shot my sperm directly into her.

Since she had not orgasmed, I pulled out and began to eat her pussy. My tongue played with her clit until she came. Then the two of us lay there, naked. Exhausted.

“That was awesome," I said. "Probably the best sex of my life.”

I had figured by now, 12 long hours after the elevator stopped, it was probably time to try and get some sleep. I sat back and tried to get as comfortable as I could. She leaned over and I held her in my arms.

“Well,” I said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

 The two of us finally fell asleep in the elevator.

And there we slept, naked, until finally, she stirred.

“What time is it?” she asked.

I reached into my back pack and looked at my cell phone.

“Two o'clock,” I said. “I bet everyone's wondering what the fuck happened to me and why I'm not showing up to Christmas dinner.”

“We've got each other,” she said.

“How am I ever going to explain this?” I said.

Then she leaned over to kiss me.

“So when this is over,” she said. “Can I see you later and love you just a little more?”

“Emily, I...I don't know,” I said. “You were great. Don't get me wrong...”

Over the next few hours, we talked some more. This time, not so much about sex or first times, but about where we wanted to go in life.

“Do you ever want to have kids?” she asked.

“I don't know,” I said. “I know it may sound kind of...I don't know...bad...but I don't think gay people should raise kids.”

“Really?” she said. “That's strange for you to say that.”

“I know,” I said, “and when I say that to my friends, believe me, I get an earful. But if you think about it, the only way gay guys can have kids is if they have surrogate mothers. That means kids have three or four parents instead of just two. I'm old fashioned. I think kids should have a mom and a dad. That's how I grew up. I guess when I figured out I was gay, I also made the decision not to have kids....what about you?”

“I want kids, definitely,” she said. “But I'd like my kids' father to be gay. I don't want some wife-beating straight guy raising my kids.”

“Men aren't that bad, you know.” I said.

Then she put her hands on my chest and fondled my nipples.

“I know,” she said.

We had sex three more times throughout the day. Each orgasm more spectacular than the last. And in between each time we had sex, we came to realize through our conversations how similar we were. I started having thoughts I had never allowed to cross my mind before. Such as, what if I had just met the person that I'm actually supposed to be with?

For one thing, I never liked topping guys. When a guy bends over in front of me, that's usually the end of it. I have always been a bottom to the core. But Emily had somehow managed to tap into something magical. I wanted to top her. I enjoyed pounding her pussy. And I couldn't get enough of it.

Emily sucked on my dick as our 26th hour in this elevator had passed. I had an urge that I had never felt until this moment.

“Do you like it in the ass?” I asked.

 “Never tried it,” she said.

“Bend over,” I said.

Emily bent down on all fours. I spit in my hand and smeared my spit all over her hole.

“Is this going to hurt?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “But only for a minute. I'll go slowly, but just swallow the pain until it goes away.”

I continued to lube her ass with my spit until I was satisfied that it was ready for my finger. I put one finger into her ass and she let out a gasp. She had apparently never had anything up there before. I put a second finger and then a third to prepare her for my cock.

Then I gently and slowly pushed my dick into her ass. She grit her teeth and wanted to scream. Sensing this, I went even slower. Then I felt her muscles relax. This is when I knew it was okay to start pounding away.

I then furiously thrust in and out of her extremely tight ass. Topping has never felt so good. As I fucked her ass, I played with her erect nipples. I continued to drill her for about fifteen minutes until I could hold back no more. I shot my cum deep into her ass and then continued fucking her until I went soft.

We spent one more full day trapped in the elevator. On the day after Christmas, despite our now painful hunger, we pretty much fucked the day away yet again. Then we fell asleep, completely drained and exhausted.

Suddenly, the elevator door opened and we awoke to paramedics throwing blankets on top of us. We were free. Free at last.

After the ordeal (if you want to call it that) was over, we were taken to the hospital. There, they checked us over and released us. We exchanged phone numbers. But now that I was back in the so-called real world, I wasn't sure I wanted to re-live the elevator experience outside the elevator.

So I went back to the bars and did my gay thing once again. One night, I ran into this beautiful dude. He was about 23, well-built, and had blond hair and baby blue eyes. We talked for a while before deciding to get down to business. His name was Chris.

I went over to Chris's apartment and we did the usual: a little small-talk, a little drink, and then our clothes came off. He started playing with my dick before giving me a blow job. I can't say I didn't enjoy it on a purely physical level, but it was nothing like Emily's blow job in the elevator.

Then he started playing with my hard nipples.

“I want you to fuck me Daddy,” Chris said, “Like the bitch that I am.”

I figured that if I could fuck Emily's ass, Chris's ass should be no problem.

“Bend over, bitch,” I ordered.

Chris bent over and hungrily awaited my cock. I was rock-hard and began to insert it into his hole. But then I went soft. Real soft. As in, dead.

“I'm sorry man,” I said, “This just isn't working for me. How about you pound my ass?”

“No way dude,” Chris said, “I'm a bottom boy.”

I then put my clothes on and left. No phone numbers were exchanged. I had no intention to ever see him again.

A few days later, it was New Year's Day, exactly one week after the elevator saga. Mom was out taking advantage of after-Christmas shopping and my younger brothers and sisters were hanging out with friends (we have a large family and I'm the oldest). It was just me and Dad watching the football game.

“Dad, I have something to tell you,” I said.

“Uh oh,” he said, “the last time you said that...”

“I told you I was gay,” I said, finishing that uncomfortable sentence, “Well, maybe I'm not as gay as I thought I was."

"Son," Dad said. "I told you it was all just a phase."

"Maybe, maybe not," I said. "All I know is that I met someone who I'm really compatible with and she happens to be a girl. And I think I'd like to start seeing her."

With that, I called up Emily and we made plans for dinner-- our first real date. A few weeks later, she came to me with the results of a pregnancy test she had taken. It was positive. I then asked her to marry me and the rest, as they say, is history.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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