OUT: Five Erotic Stories of Gay Self-Discovery

Five Erotic Stories of Gay Self-Discovery

by Patient Lee

OUT - Patient Lee
Editions:Paperback: $ 9.99
ISBN: 978-1535400213
Pages: 204
Five short stories of different stages of gay self-discovery.

Five erotic stories of different stages of self-discovery. From a confused teen dressing in a prom gown to grown-up straight guys discovering pleasure with another man. Gay men finding forbidden love in a punishing setting to mature men in a long-term relationship, Patient Lee’s characters represent a range of homosexual experiences. Follow the journey from the first time a young man questions his sexuality to men living a lifetime with the men they love.

Come with a Friend- An eighteen-old-man with a tragic life and a history of being bullied reconnects with a childhood friend who cooks up a scheme to take revenge on the bully of their youth. But is revenge the real reason for Jason wearing a gown to the prom? Or could Timmy be in love with him?

Christmas in July- Straight-guy Sam spends a weekend in a campground to entice his kids to hang out with him for Christmas in July. His ex-wife cuts the weekend short, leaving him plenty of time to hang out with Larry, the fortysomething gay man in the camper next door. Beer and Larry’s mildly dominant personality leads them into his camper. And then his bedroom.

Come on Down- While fooling around with the much younger Caylin, James has a flashback to a gay experience when he was younger, prompting his girlfriend to arrange a threesome with an old friend. How far will James go with another man this time?

Gay Greenhorn on the F/V Lost Agnes- Inspired by the song Midnight Train to Georgia, Carson travels to Alaska to try crab fishing, but the Lost Agnes is too much for him. He meets Artie, a closeted deckhand, and they fall hard and fast for each other. When life on the Bering Sea threatens to swallow him up, Carson has to return to Georgia, to the life he knows. But can Artie live without him or will he be forced to give up life on the Lost Agnes to live in Carson’s world in order to be together?

Love and a Hate Crime- Thad is twenty, but he’s slow. When his bully, Jimmy, tells him to “fuck up the queers,” the gay couple in their 60s who live down the block, Thad trusts that in return, Jimmy will leave him alone. When he breaks into their house, he witnesses the couple making love, arousing him and terrifying him at the same time. Will Thad go through with his plan or will he learn something important about himself when he witnesses two men in love?

This book is on:
  • 1 To Be Read list
Publisher: Not Currently Available
Cover Artists:
Pairings: MM, MMF
Heat Level: 5
Romantic Content: 5
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Bisexual, Gay, Questioning, Transgender
Protagonist 1 Age: 18-25
Protagonist 2 Age: 36-45
Protagonist 3 Age: 66+
Tropes: Coming of Age, Coming Out / Closeted, Death of Parent, First Time, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Gay for You / Straight to Gay, May/December, Opposites Attract, Rescue
Languages Available: English


Excerpt from Christmas in July:

"The worst day of my life," Sam said, shaking his head. "We were at a picnic with Kayla's high school friends at one of their houses. This is, like, three years ago. Everybody's kids were there and everything. Tons of food, a keg of Sam's Summer. It was a great day.

"Kayla and the girls were in total bitch-fest mode, drinking Arbor Mist by the Solo cupful and complaining about their husbands. Most of the guys had gone to the garage to check out the guy's new hot rod he was fixing up. There were kids running around all over the place, and I had to make a phone call to work, so I went into the guest room to find some quiet."

Ignoring the situation in his shorts, Sam stoked the fire and grabbed the last two beers out of the cooler.

"What I didn't realize was that Tom was staying in the guest room."


"You didn't knock?" Larry asked, the corners of his mouth turning up in amusement.

"Nope," Sam said. His lips popped together on the p-sound. "One of the kids had hosed Tom's shorts with an entire red juice box, so it soaked right through to his skin. He'd gone in to change, and I barged right in."

Larry chuckled. "I'm guessing your wife saw more than you looking at her naked friend.” He didn't try to hide his amusement. Or his hard-on.

"You would be guessing correctly. We all knew Tom was gay. He came out right after high school."

"Did you know him then?" Larry asked.

"No. I met my wife in college. They'd been friends since childhood. Anyway, I walked in, and he was naked. I'd never been attracted to a guy before, but my dick was hard enough for him to see it through my jeans before I could even apologize for barging in. It was ridiculous. Horribly embarrassing."

"Ooh boy," Larry said. He could see where this was going, but he let Sam tell it.

"Yeah. I expected him to tell me to get the fuck out, but instead he told me to close the door. When I turned back, he was hard and huge."

"Just how I like 'em," Larry said with a chuckle. He was drunk, and he knew it. The thought that he needed to watch his mouth crossed his mind and quickly flew out. It had been a long time since he had a friend, never mind someone to flirt with. Flirting. Fucking great. I'm forty-four years old, not fourteen.

"I just kind of froze there, staring at his massive cock. I must have licked my lips or something because he understood exactly what was on my mind. He walked right over to me, pinned me against the door, and kissed me."

"Tongue?" Larry craved the details. He was already planning to replay this campfire tale when he jerked off later. He needed to hear all of it.

"Oh, yeah. Lots of tongue." Sam smiled and shifted in his chair. "He rubbed me through my shorts for a minute while he kissed me, and then he unbuttoned my pants and stuffed his hand into my boxers. I knew I should be saying, like, 'Dude! What the fuck are you doing?’ but I just stuck my tongue farther into his mouth. Totally ridiculous."

Larry's hand went to the front of his khakis, and he stroked idly through the fabric, without realizing what he was doing.

"Are you enjoying the story?" Sam asked with a crooked smile aimed at Larry’s crotch.

"Ah, yes. Yes I am. Keep talking." He knew this was a bad idea. He knew that somebody from one of his jobs sites could see, and then everyone would know about him. His arousal and loneliness won out over caution though, and he left his hand where it was.

“I was drunk, but that didn’t explain how I went from being as straight as a laser to letting my wife’s gay friend jack me off.” Sam rubbed his own cock through his shorts.

“Must have been buried deep,” Larry said just as headlights swept over the campsite, and both men covered their tented crotches with their beer bottles. They froze, staring at each other with wide eyes.  As soon as it was dark again, they burst out laughing.

"Put out the fire," Larry said. "Let's finish this conversation in my living room."

Sam glanced at his pop-up and chuckled. "Your living room is bigger than my camper, isn't it?"

Larry ignored the question. "C'mon. Let's get inside before we end up jerking off in front of the neighbors."

Excerpt from Gay Greenhorn on the F/V Lost Agnes:

Almost twenty hours later, we were done. Once he finally stopped pukin', Carson turned out to be a lot tougher than we thought, shockin’ the shit out of all of us. He was fast cuttin' up the fish, and he was pretty nimble for a guy his size. He managed to get the bait bags hung in the pots a helluva lot faster than I expected, so I started thinkin' he just might do okay.

Lost Agnes wasn’t a huge boat, but we did have our own bunks, which was nicer than other boats I’d been on. I don’t think Carson would’a cared if he had to sleep on the floor though. When he hit the rack, he was dead to the world for, like, seven hours.

He only woke up after that asshole, Chip, sat on his head and fuckin’ farted. I was eating my huge plate of bacon and eggs when him and some of the other douchebags came into the galley laughin’ about it.

“What the fuck happened?” I asked. I started eatin’ faster so I could get away from the table.

“Chip laid a big one right on the motherfuckin’ greenhorn’s head. It was fuckin’ great!” Ed said.

I shook my head. “C’mon, guys. The poor kid finally stopped pukin’ and you fart on him?” I said. I was pissed. “You’re a bunch of fuckin' assholes.” I shoveled down the rest of my breakfast, grabbed some saltines and a bottle of water for Carson, and refilled my coffee cup. “Dickheads,” I muttered as I left the galley to go check on him.

He was alone, tryin’ to sit up. I gave him the water and the crackers and sat down on my bunk across from him. I sipped my coffee for a minute. “How ya doin’, kid?” I asked. I noticed, for the first time, that his eyes were a clear, steely blue. His hair was dark, thick, and cut short. His face was stubbly, and I caught myself just before I reached out to run my hand along his whiskers.

“Better, I guess. Thank you for helping me out,” he said. He paused to take a drink of the water. “I truly appreciate it. This is not going well, to say the least.”

I shrugged. “How’s your stomach,” I asked.

“This is the first time since I got on the boat that I actually feel a little bit hungry.” He opened the package of crackers and took a nibble.

I could hear the guys in the galley laughing about somethin’, so I got up and shut the door. I didn't want them to hear us talkin'. He finished the cracker and took a long drink from the bottle of water. “Go easy, kid. You don’t wanna puke again.” He put the bottle down, belched, and made a face.

"Yeah. No more puking," he said with a pinched smile. "I think I could actually eat some real food."

"Well, we better get goin' then. We're gonna be back to work pretty quick here, and I need a smoke," I told him. "And you're gonna need to fill the tank. I don't know how you got through yesterday. You're a lot tougher than I thought, but you're gonna hafta learn to substitute sleep with food to get ya through."

He looked at me for a minute, like he was tryin’ to learn what I looked like. “How old are you?” he asked me, out-of-the-blue.

“Thirty-six. Why?”

“I'm just curious. I can’t imagine doing this when I’m that old,” he said.

“Who you callin’ old?” I tried to sound offended, but I knew my face seen better days. My full, reddish facial hair covered some of the scars and wrinkles, but the rest of my face looked old. Weathered, as the old-timers would say. I smiled at him.

“No. That isn't what I meant. I just . . .” he said. “I’m just wondering how long you’ve been doing this.”

“Eleven years. On three different boats. The Agnes is the best I ever been on.”

He paused again. “How did you know?” he asked in a real quiet voice.

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to tell him, but I knew that he'd figure it out on his own. Better to deal with it now before he brought it up in front of Chip or Ed. “I am too, kid. When Chip called you a faggot, I recognized the look on your face. You gotta learn to hide that reaction, buddy. Crab fishermen don’t like fags. Bein' on a crab boat can be like bein' in prison. The longer we're out, the more fag jokes you hear.”

He was quiet for a minute while he chewed another cracker. “I don’t belong here,” he said finally. “I don’t know why I did this. I mean, I know I did it to prove to my father that I could, but honestly, I don't think I can.” His head was hanging like a dog that just got kicked.

“Well, I ain't gonna lie. You ain't the best greenhorn ever,” I said. “But you did better than we all thought yesterday. And you’re stuck here for a while. It’s not like you can swim back to Dutch.”

He sighed so hard, I thought he was getting' sick again.

"I know," I said. I was tryin' to be sympathetic. "We'll be out here for at least another week and a half. Give it a few days, and see if it gets any better. If it don't, give Captain Rich your notice quick, so he can find another greenhorn, okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," he said, shaking his head like he was tryin' to get rid of a bad dream. "So, nobody here knows—"

"Shh!" I hissed at him. "No. Nobody knows nothin' about me. I been on this boat for six years now. I work hard and keep my fuckin' mouth shut. You do that too or these guys will make your life a livin' hell until Rich fires your ass." I pointed at his chest, almost pokin' him.

"Can you get fired? Just for being g—"

"Yes," I hissed. "This ain't no equal opportunity gig. And if you out me, I'll fuckin' throw you overboard." I was basically growlin' at him by the time I was done.

His eyes were wide open, and he shook his head a little bit, back and forth. I guess I scared the shit out of him, 'cause his baby face suddenly looked real young.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know that was harsh. A crab boat ain't like college, you know. The guys here ain't exactly open-minded. I'll help you out as much as I can, but you have to keep my secret and yours. I'll lose everythin' if you don't."

"I get it," he said. "Trust me. I get it." He looked past me, like he was somewheres else for a minute. I believed that he did get it. I had the urge to reach out and hug him, but that was fuckin' crazy. Instead, I walked out to have a smoke.


About the Author

Patient Lee is an author of Erotic Realism- stories based in reality, infusing the mundane with the erotic. She doesn't write about billionaires or presidents, nobility or celebrities. Her stories are about real people inspired by the real people she sees in everyday life-depressed teenagers, blue-collar workers, teachers and custodians, the middle-class, people living in trailer parks or in campgrounds, crab fishermen and college students.

Her ideas come from a variety of sources-an overheard sentence, a song, an announcement ("Come with a friend and save two dollars!"). She selects the pairing (straight, LGBT) for the story based on what best works with the characters, which results in a variety of tales. Her work reflects the duality of her nature. Regular, boring job, quiet, laid-back disposition, but lustful and sensuous in the bedroom. Her stories often deal with unpleasant themes- depression, bullying, environmental issues, natural disasters- but in a manner that leaves the reader uplifted, hopeful, and satisfied.

Patient Lee works full-time and has a husband and three children. She writes when she can, sometimes balancing the laptop on her knees and a cat on her chest. In the summer, she spends many hours at a folding table under a canopy at her camper, writing and sipping chardonnay or a super-hoppy IPA.