Tommyhawk's Fantasies: Certificate of Virginity and Other Stories

Gay erotic short stories with explicit language. Ten off-beat stories of sex in unusual circumstances, often with a touch of sci-fi added, but always strange and unique circumstances apply as these men make love.

Following is an excerpt from "Certificate of Virginity:"

“Hey, guys!” came a sound that made me both perk up my ears and close my eyes in pain at the same time. The pain came from the exact tenor of that voice, it was just on the edge of excruciating. The ears perking up, though, came from the look of Stacey. Why is it that God graces the most beautiful women in the world with voices that make you wish they came with a mute button?

So I turned along with a couple of other guys from my football team; we’d been standing around waiting for class to start on the last Monday of school.

“Guess who just got his C.V.?” Stacey informed us in that painfully-toned voice of hers, only slightly sotte voce.

Okay, it was a juicy tidbit to get. The Certificate of Virginity is the most embarrassing thing for a guy to get. The only way to get a C.V., male or female, was to go into the Offices of the Department of Health and Welfare and fill out the application, certified by a psychologist after an extensive interview that you had never, ever had sex. If you passed, you got a C.V., a certificate that required, REQUIRED the person you presented it to to have sexual relations with you one time, all the way to your sexual orgasm.

But it was, after all, a public declaration of virginity, of being unable to have sex with anyone no matter what you did. A guy who applied for one (and got it) was saying that he was so desperate to get laid, he’d go through the ordeal and humiliation of being a pity-fuck. Humiliation because the same law made the publication of who had gotten one and/or used one a matter of public record, just visit the website. Probably how Stacey had found out, she was the sort who’d check the thing every night before bedtime, hoping for something juicy to use against someone.

You qualified for a C.V. at age 18 on. To grab for one in high school senior year like us was to say that you didn’t expect to be able to get sex any time soon.

So we were all ears. “Come on, Stacey, who? Yeah, who’s the loser? Who’s the doofus?” we all chimed in.

“Zach Wheeler.” Stacey practically squealed. “Can you imagine? Omigawd, you don’t think he’s going to hand that thing to me, do you? Oh, God, I couldn’t, I just couldn’t!”

Man, I could see why he’d apply for the C.V.! Zach Wheeler was this skinny, scrawny nerd with bony arms and bony legs and ribs that showed clearly whenever he was unlucky enough to have to take a shower at the gym.

“Come on, Stacey, you could take one for the team, couldn’t you?” Jack taunted her.

“The chess team? No way!” Stacey declared.

I looked over her shoulder. “Well, we’ll find out if you mean that.” I warned her. “He’s coming this way.”

Stacey squealed and took off running. But she couldn’t dodge Zack the Back (he had ready-for-squeezing pimples all over his back) all day.

I’d turned back to my friends to make a joke to them about those pimples and sex with Stacey the cure for clearing them up when I heard another voice I hoped to never hear like Stacey’s.

“Garth?”

I turned back to find that Zach had the infernal gall to be standing there looking right at me. “What the fuck do you want, loser?”

“Can we talk somewhere, private?” he asked.

I started to answer angrily when I realized what that almost certainly meant. “Oh! Oh, oh, no, no!”

But Zach pulled out the infamous gold-colored paper. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

I just closed my eyes and felt the paper touch my hand. “It’s my Certificate of Virginity.” You can’t refuse the C.V. any more than you can refuse to accept a subpoena to appear in court. I took it.

“All right, all right, I got it, I got it!” I groaned. “Now get out of my sight, now!”