Gay Erotic Stories

Have you ever known a truly good person who no matter how good they were, bad things always happened to them? That was my friend Tracy. She is the best person I know. We have been friends since we were both six. She moved into my neighborhood when her dad got sick. Her mom was young, maybe thirty, but her dad was fifty and sick with cancer. He died a few months later. But she remained sweet and good. We were the best of friends and I could tell her anything, well almost everything. I couldn’t admit I was gay. I didn’t want to deal with it, so I refused to believe it. If I could deny it, I didn’t have to deal with it. Big joke, and it was on me.

We went away to college and enrolled in the same school. Once there, we kind of drifted apart. She wanted to explore and I was too busy hiding. But I kept in touch. I refused to let her alone; she usually got into trouble that way. When we were juniors, she met Alex. He was older, a grad student. I never understood the attraction, I still don’t. He treated her like shit. He never had a nice thing to say about her. I think he was just using her for sex. But she was in love, so I stayed quiet. There was just something about him that had the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Then I found out he was hitting her. I started spending more time with Tracy. I wound up moving into the flophouse she rented with six other students. Alex was a constant in her room, living off her basically rent-free.

After a couple of months, I was down in the kitchen paying bills. Alex walked in. I went to answer the phone and when I came back he was smirking. He told me I needed to loosen up. Then I sealed the envelopes and stamped them and put them in the mailbox. The bastard had slipped some acid on one of the envelopes. In minutes I was tripping and bad. Tracy came home a few minutes later. Alex was angry with me. I am a lot bigger than he is. I stand six-six and about two-forty, he was only five-nine and a measly one-sixty. I guess he couldn’t control me. He was trying to fuck with me and I was overpowering him. So he turned me over to Tracy. She took me by the hand and led me upstairs to my room. My room was all white, white bedding, floors, ceiling, and walls. She helped me out of my clothes and lay down on the bed with me and let me trip. She held me when what I saw scared me and laughed with me when I got philosophical. To this day I know that we slept together, I can remember being hard and inside her, but I still can’t get her to admit it. All she would tell me was that night was the sweetest she had known.

I woke the next morning naked and the room just smelled of sex. So I know we did it, but like so many other things about my acid trip, I can’t really be sure. I got dressed and went down stairs. When I saw Alex, I cold-cocked him. I knocked him out and dislocated his jaw. I hate getting violent. I can do it if I have to, but I hate it. A few weeks later, I moved out, knowing that I couldn’t protect Tracy because even after he drugged me, she wouldn’t leave him. So I found a new roommate and moved to a two-bedroom apartment with a guy I had had a few classes with. His name was Chris and we hit it off right away. We were both studying to be teachers. His major was in physical education and mine was English. My wealth of denial was starting to come apart. I found myself really attracted to him. He was everything I wasn’t. He was open and easy-going. He was comfortable in his own skin and his confidence just added to his appeal. He stood about six-two and he had white blond hair. His skin held a great tan and he was covered in that pale fur from collar to toes. He was beautiful. He was muscular without being hulking and kind and caring. But of course I couldn’t allow myself to be attracted to him. It just wouldn’t work out. Besides, the walls aren’t that thick. I could hear him night after night with a different co-ed. He was definitely in the straight category.

About two months after I moved in with Chris, Tracy came to me. She was in a panic. She was pregnant. For a minute I thought it was mine. But she told me that she was three months along and was finally ready to give up on Alex. She also knew that if he found out about the baby, that he would never be out of her life. So we sat and talked and after several hours, I agreed to be the baby’s father. She still wouldn’t confirm it, but Alex figured out that we had fooled around together. So we decided to tell the world that we were expecting a baby. I told her that we should probably get married to make it all legal so Alex couldn’t interfere. That night we moved her stuff in with me and Chris and she spent the night in my bed, curled in my arms.

It’s funny but those first few weeks of Tracy and I together actually had me thinking that we could make it work. We didn’t have sex, but the holding and caring and laughing was sure nice. So maybe it wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being alone. I was really grateful to Chris. He became just as good a friend to Tracy as he was to me. He talked with her and helped her get some exercise and eat right for the baby’s sake. Like I said, those first couple of months was ideal.

I went home for the weekend to visit my family and explain to them that Tracy and I were going to become a family. But I couldn’t do it. That probably should have been my first inkling that something was wrong. I came home on Sunday and looked for Tracy, but I couldn’t find her. Which was odd, because her car was there. Then I heard the usual sexual culmination noises from Chris’s room. So he had some bimbo in there and Tracy probably went for a walk to get away. I was turning to go look for her when his bedroom door opened. Chris walked out in his boxers, all sweaty and disheveled, followed by Tracy. I just kind of stared at them. I mean I just couldn’t believe it. I sat down hard. Too bad there wasn’t a chair under me. I ended up sprawled on the floor. It wasn’t the shock of them sleeping together. It wasn’t that I was jealous of Chris, which I knew is what he thought. It was because all the denial left me and I knew that I couldn’t hide from it anymore. I’m gay and I wasn’t jealous of Chris. I was jealous of Tracy. I had been hiding for so long and to have it come crashing in on me so quickly had simply staggered me. My hands were shaking. Chris kept trying to talk to me, but Tracy simply asked him to let us talk privately. He left us alone, but reluctantly.

“Ben, I’m sorry you found out like that, but you know we couldn’t have gone through with it.”

“Gone through with what?”

“We couldn’t have gotten married and tried to make a family. You know it. And I know it.”

“But we were having such a good time together.”

“And you didn’t want to sleep with me. I kept hinting, offering, and you didn’t take it.”

“But…”

“Honey, I love you. I really wish it could have worked. But Ben, sweetie, you’re gay. I have known for a long time. If that look on your face when you saw Chris and me together is any indication, you’ve known for some time too.”

“God, Trace. I just… I didn’t want… What happens now?”

“I don’t know. But it’s for the best that you and I not follow through on our plans. I panicked Ben. And we made some decisions that were unrealistic and unfair, for either of us. I love you for it, but it cannot be.”

I nodded. “I think I need to be alone for a while. I need to think.”

“I know sweetie.”

So I left. I drove around for a while. Then I sat in an all night coffee shop and thought and drank a pot of coffee. I came to the conclusion that I needed to be honest with myself, and everybody else. And the first person I needed to be honest with was Chris. I knew he felt guilty and I also knew that Tracy wouldn’t betray me by telling him. So that meant I needed to, if just to have practice and relieve his guilt. The next day I waited for him after class and then sat him down in our living room.

“Ben, I’m sorry about Tracy. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. Look, Chris, it wasn’t going to work out with Tracy. We panicked and came up with some plans before we thought them through. I’m not angry.” I swallowed hard. “The reason why it wouldn’t work out is… well… I’m gay.”

“But… Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I’m sorry I freaked out on you last night. I wasn’t expecting it. I’ve been hiding for so long, denying that it was true. But last night… it was too much and the truth broke through the lies I was telling myself.”

“I don’t care that you are gay, Ben. But why was last night a breakthrough for you?”

“Well… I don’t want you to be offended. But…”

“What, don’t worry about offending me.”

“I was jealous last night.”

“Of me?”

“No. Of Tracy.” I just let it hang there. Willing him to understand. Willing him to realize what I was telling him. I saw the light dawn on his eyes. Then he kind of smiled at me.

“You like me?”

“Well, yeah. We’re friends.”

“That’s not—“

“I know. That’s not what you meant. Yeah. I do. A lot.”

Chris stood up and walked to me. He sat next to me on the couch and hugged me. I was at a loss. I didn’t know what was happening. I hoped. I cringed. But I liked it. He was holding me. He knew the truth and he was hugging me. I slowly responded and wrapped my arms around him. My heart was pounding so fast. For a minute I let myself hope. I let all my fantasies, all those secret ones I’d been hiding, run wild. I imagined him kissing me, stroking me, loving me. But he pulled away. I know I blushed. He kissed my cheek and that seemed to be the end of it.

Now I was more confused then ever. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Living in denial basically means that I lived alone. Unless you count a drug induced encounter, I was still a virgin. I didn’t know what the signals were. I certainly didn’t know what to do to make my attentions known. I didn’t understand how to flirt or how to meet people. Even though I was honest, I was still alone. Somehow I thought that once I admitted I was gay, that I would instantly find someone. Wrong! I was still alone. And it hurt, because now I didn’t have my fantasy and lies to shield me any longer. I had stripped myself raw of all the lies and it just made me feel more vulnerable, more alone.

About two weeks later, Tracy had gone home to see her mom one weekend. It was just Chris and I. We had still talked like always and Tracy still slept in my room with me. It she and Chris were still having sex, I didn’t know about it. I was sitting at my desk, studying when I got a knock on my bedroom door. I opened it and almost swallowed my tongue. Chris stood before me wearing a pair of silk boxers and nothing else. Before I could say anything, he wrapped his arms around my neck and started kissing me. He tasted sweet, like mint. He smelled great, a slight woodsy cologne and soap. I met his kisses with my own. But it must have been obvious that I had very little experience at kissing. Chris pulled back and looked at me. He didn’t ask, but I had a feeling he could tell. He came into my room and shut my door. He kissed me again and pulled off my shirt. He skimmed his hands over my bare skin, causing me to break out in goose bumps. He brushed over my hard nipples and I moaned. He then lowered his head and licked at one before taking it in his mouth and suckling me. My hands clasped his head, pulling him tighter against me. I ran my hand down his back, feeling the strength and warmth of his body. Before I knew it I was laying on the bed, we had fallen against it. Chris pulled at my clothes until I was naked but for a pair of white briefs. He touched and tasted my skin from neck to feet. Then he lay beside me, inviting me to do the same. And I did. I touched his chest and sifted my fingers through all that white fur, feeling how soft it was, how thick. I touched all of him, skimming over his legs, feeling the strength, the tone of his muscles, the warmth of his body.

Then I moved my hands over his boxers and felt him, thick and heavy, growing erect under my hand. I looked up at him and lifted the waistband, pulling it down and feeling him, running a finger along the length of him. I felt Chris shudder. I continued touching and exploring him, growing bolder with each pass of my hand. Then I had him in my fist. He was so warm and the skin so velvety soft in my hand. He was thick and steely hard. I lowered my nose down and smelled of him: soap and something different, something that was all Chris. Then I took him in my mouth. Just a bit, just the thick, bulbous head, running my tongue around that flare, the thick ridge that defined and set apart the head from the shaft. He moaned under me. I tried to take him deeper, put more of him inside me. But my inexperience showed. I got maybe another two inches in, but it seemed to be enough. Each bob of my head, each flick of my tongue, each brush of my lips had Chris crying out, twitching his body and shifting his legs. Within moments he was crying out, flooding my mouth with his essence, melting against my tongue. As his last spasm shook him, I found myself spurting in my shorts, overwhelmed by the experience just passed.

Chris panted and caught his breath for a moment before pulling me up to him. He kissed me, tasting his flavor, savoring it just as I had been doing. He pushed me back on the bed, lowering his hand to the front of my underwear, feeling the soaked fabric then lowering my briefs. I had softened a bit, but the moment he touched me, I sprang back to full staff. I watched in amazement as Chris lowered and took me in his mouth, cleaning up the last clinging dribbles of my release as he moved over me, making love to my shaft with his lips, wringing pleasure from me with his tongue. I wondered if he had ever done this before. But it didn’t really matter; he was doing it, bringing me pleasure, being with me. In no time I was crying out, releasing deep into him, moaning out my pleasure. As I came back to reality, I realized that I had been wrong in my feelings about Chris.

Yes he was my friend, but he had become so much more. It wouldn’t have hurt so much, that day when I saw him with Tracy, if I didn’t feel more for him. I was in love with him. The knowledge shook me, made me tremble as Chris joined me on the pillow, looking at me, smiling slightly at me. His fingers touched my face, pulling me to him for a gentle kiss. The tenderness of the gesture, the caring, sweet way he met my lips had me harden again, ready for whatever came next. I rolled over on top of him, pressing my renewed erection into his hip, digging into him, pressing deeper and deeper, instinctively thrusting against him, looking for something I wanted but didn’t know how to get. I pulled his boxers the rest of the way off and noticed he was just as erect, just as hard. I pulled back to look in his eyes, searching for what, I don’t know. But searching in his eyes for something, some indication that this was okay, that this was what he wanted. He touched my face and kissed me again. Then he rolled us over, pinning me to the bed. Rolling so his hips nestled between mine, increasing the contact of our rigid flesh. He planted his knees, raising his hips a bit. He cupped my shoulders under his arms as he wrapped them about me, keeping his chest touching but not resting on mine. Then he kissed me deeply and began moving over me, brushing his cock against mine, wedged tightly between my smooth, and his softly furred belly. He moved beautifully over me, gliding back and forth in long motions of his hip, dragging his staff from my balls, pushing it up to my belly button over and over allowing my cock to rub into the furry patch covering his stomach and belly.

Each tiny, infinitely soft hair was rubbing me like a million small feathers. The sensations were almost too much. It caused me to curl and hump against him, increasing both of our pleasure. I wrapped one thigh over the back of his and moved my hands down to grip his ass, pulling him against me as I got closer and closer to release. Then Chris moved his mouth away from me, burying it into the crook between my shoulder and neck and moaned deeply. He kept moaning over and over as we undulated together, moving in tandem towards explosion. Then it happened, the sensations grew and I tripped over the edge, gripping him tighter, raising hard against his belly, pulling his hips down to me to increase the sensation that much more as I came. Six, seven, eight heavy spasms sent my essence flying out of me, against his belly and up my chest, slicking us, cementing us. The extra sensation, the added bonus of my own lubrication eased his way and within ten seconds Chris found his own release, crying out with deep, heavy moans with each twitch of his cock, with each spasm of his own ecstasy. He collapsed against me, squishing and cementing our semen between us. For the first time I didn’t raise right back and within seconds we were asleep.

I awoke a while later with Chris still sprawled on top of me. I wrapped my arms around his back and nuzzled his neck with my nose, kissing him lightly from time to time. He slowly woke, pulling away to look at me. He gave me a lazy smile and kissed me. While we were asleep, he had slipped between my legs. Now I felt him thicken and harden against me. He pushed against me and the sensation had me arching my back against him. He pulled away from the kiss and asked if this is what I wanted. I was blind with wanting him and nodded. He got up and left the room for a minute only to return with a tube of something. I watched him walk towards the bed, his impressive erection bobbing and twirling with each of his steps.

He slid onto the bed, lying on his side next to me. He unscrewed the cap to the tube and smeared a clear dab of lubricant on his fingers. Then he had me raise my legs, bent at the knee and he moved his hand to me. Then he was massaging the cool jelly into me. He moved all around my hole, dipping and parting the ring with each subsequent stroke of his fingers. Then he slowly sank a single finger into me, smearing the lubricant around my insides. I moaned heavily as he nicked my prostate. After a couple of minutes, a second finger joined the first followed shortly by a third. He twisted them around inside me as he moved back and forth against my ring, parting me, readying me for a further invasion. I was dripping wet, leaking my clear essence into my belly button, collecting there like rain in a puddle. Without warning, his fingers were gone. Chris grabbed my hand and smeared some of the cool lube on my fingers then dragged my hand to his shaft and let me smear it, coating him, making him as ready as I.

Then he moved over me, resting against me as he had before only this time with my hips tilted upward. He toyed with me for a couple of minutes, rubbing the engorged head against me, rubbing it back and forth, allowing me to get used to his size and feel before he slowly started to push forward. Just gentle pulses of his hips at first, followed by a more forceful thrust to pop the head inside me. I parted for him, accepting him, taking him inside. He waited, letting me adjust. Then he plunged into me, seating himself to the hilt in three rapid, deep thrusts of his hips. Then he stayed. His face had gone all red and he was breathing deeply. I felt myself stretch around him, accepting him. When I had finished quivering around him, I pushed my hips against him and he swore sharply then pulled out and started thrusting heavily against me. It was amazing. I felt myself tighten around him and then my belly flattened, quivering. Within seconds after he started thrusting I was spurting between us, coating our bellies in my release. And he kept moving, pushing into me, grunting and groaning in his own pleasure. But the pleasure kept going for me, I felt myself build again. Then Chris jerked hard and pushed really deep and groaned as I felt heat spread through me, then he pulled back before hitting me deep again and crying out and that pushed me over the edge, feeling his spasms pushing against my prostate, joining him in release.

He rested against me in the cradle of my body. His breathing slowed and I could no longer feel the rapid beat of his heart. His hair was mussed and there was a light sheen of sweat on him. He was still inside me, but softening, slipping away. I wanted him to stay, to stay forever. But he slipped out gently and let his arms lower his chest to rest heavily against mine. I cupped my hands around him and rolled us to our sides. I stroked his hair back from his forehead and kissed him lightly. He gave me a tired smile and slowly fell asleep. Whereas Chris was tired from what we had shared, I was energized. But I didn’t want to leave him. So I stayed and watched him sleep, rubbing my hand up and down his arm from time to time, stroking his back, and kissed his forehead lightly. While he slept I let my mind wander, enjoying the fantasies. I just lay there wondering about the future, smiling to myself about how happy I was, feeling foolish for denying who and what I was for so long.

Chris woke up to see me smiling. He commented on it. I just laughed and started kissing him again. He kept asking if I was okay. I assured him I was perfect. We kept kissing and moving against each other, both hard, both wanting. Then he pulled back and stood up and told me he would be back. I heard him rummaging around in the bathroom. I heard him turn on the taps in the tub. He came for me and pulled me into the bathroom. Each step caused me to wince a little. I ached a bit, but it was more pleasant than painful. And I will definitely remember with fondness how the ache got there. The water was steaming hot and he had me crawl in. He had a sponge and some soap and started washing me.

“I read in a book once about a guy who bathed a virgin he had deflowered, to soothe and calm. I thought it was the most erotic thing I had read about. But I’ve never been with one until now.”

I was embarrassed. I felt myself blush but didn’t turn away. He slowly washed me from head to foot. And the warm water did help; it felt good on my newly opened body. He had me lean forward and he washed and massaged my back. Then he rinsed me off. He even dried me with a soft towel. Then we went back to bed. He came to my door Friday night and he bathed me in the wee hours of Saturday morning. We were still in bed together Sunday night. We had made love more times than I could count. When I went to sleep Sunday night, I held him, spooned up against Chris and held him until morning. I awoke alone on Monday. Chris had early classes so I wasn’t surprised. I went to my afternoon lectures and expected to find him when I got home. But the apartment was empty. A little before five, I heard the keys rattle in the door. I was sitting in the living room, catching the news. I stood and had a big smile on my face. Chris came walking in, hand in hand with Tracy. My smile slowly faded. They had huge grins on their faces. When Tracy saw me she told me they were getting married. I don’t know how I schooled my face to keep from showing how hurt and baffled I felt. She told me that she had gone home for the weekend to tell her mother and she was coming to take us out to dinner to celebrate. Chris asked me if I would stand up for them at their wedding which was set for a few days after we graduated in June. I couldn’t believe he was asking me this.

What had we just spent the weekend sharing? What was it all about? How could he kiss me, hold me, make love to me, not just once but over and over if he was getting married? Then I looked at Tracy, who has had so little in her life to be joyful about. And she was happy. She was five months pregnant and was getting married. It was obvious she was in love with Chris. I understood that. Then I looked at Chris. The look he had for Tracy cemented it. He loved her too. It was there in his eyes. His love ran deep. I agreed to stand up for them, pushing aside the hurt and confusion. I begged off dinner. I waited until the door had closed and then let the steel bands that were squeezing my chest ease. I collapsed against the wall and slid down it, biting my hand to keep from letting the sobs become too loud. I don’t know how long I sat there, crying. But eventually I got up and took a shower, more to just clean myself up than anything. When I was done, I was so, so tired and listless. I crawled into bed. My heart ached, my throat hurt and my head pounded from the crying I had done. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.

Over the last few weeks of school, I learned that Chris and Tracy were planning on moving to Sacramento. So not only was I losing the man I loved, but also my best friend. I wanted to ask Chris why it had happened. Why did he come to me? Why did it happen at all? But I hate confrontation. And to be truthful, I was afraid of the answers. So I kept quiet, like I usually do. I stood up for them in June and even threw rice at them as they left. They moved to Sacramento and I stayed in Seattle. God I was messed up that summer. I was seriously depressed. The only people who knew I was gay were Tracy and Chris. I still hadn’t gathered up the courage to tell my family or any of my other friends. I just spent the summer looking for a job. Teaching wasn’t for me. I did find a job, nowhere near related to either my English degree or teaching, but who really goes to college and ends up working in a job that uses their skills. The first week in September I got a call. Tracy was in labor. I geared myself up for it and flew to Sacramento. She was still in labor when I got to the hospital. They both wanted me with them in the delivery room.

They say that childbirth is a beautiful miracle, a wonderful, joyous time. It isn’t. It is messy and gory and there is a lot of screaming. But it is emotional. God is it ever. And all that emotion must gloss over the pain and the gore. When the baby finally came, even I was choked up. Tracy was so exhausted, but the smile on her face was worth it. She looked so radiant. I know, how can someone tired and sweaty be beautiful, but she was. Chris kissed her so passionately. Then he was holding the baby. It was a boy. He was crying and kissing the little fingers and toes, murmuring love words to it. And then he handed the baby to Tracy and murmured love words to her. I really wanted to hate him. But I couldn’t. How can you hate a man who gets so emotional over someone else’s kid? It didn’t matter to him, who his father was. If he had been an ass about it, yeah, I could have gotten over him. But all that love he gave to Tracy and the baby just had my feelings strengthen. I am such a fool, and so damn pathetic. So I was the third wheel, the out of place point in a triangle. I loved, but wasn’t loved in return; at least not in the way I wanted, needed.

I went home. I was determined to get over my feelings and to start living my life. I went out a few times, meeting a few people. It was okay. I even went home one night with a stranger I met in a bar. It wasn’t what I was expecting. It was cold and unemotional, mechanical even. Yeah, I got off. But that splendid warmth, that sensual connection that I had felt with Chris wasn’t there. And it just left me cold. I wasn’t over him yet. I tried, but each time they would call, telling me about some new wonder that the baby was performing, just made the ache so much more. Each laughing, loving word that they shared over the phone with me just emphasized the fact that I was alone. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

They did love me, loved me like a friend, a brother. I flew to Sacramento every six months or so to see them, never letting on how much it hurt to be in the same room while they held and loved on each other. They were expecting a second child when I went to visit them the third time. The baby, Brian, was almost two. After a couple of months I got an excited call from Chris. They weren’t just having one baby; they were expecting two. I could hear the excitement in his voice, the joy and the love. Before he hung up, he told me he loved me. It wasn’t what I wanted; it wasn’t enough. I choked out my response and hung up. I decided that the next time I was in Sacramento, I would ask Chris why. I needed to know, just so I could move on. The coward’s way, I know. But I just didn’t know what else to do.

About six months later, I took off work and went to California. Tracy was overdue and I decided to wait it out with them. After a couple of days and about sixteen hours of labor, there was a new set of twins in the world. A boy and a girl, they named the boy after me. My emotions were raw. Had been for more time than I could remember. After a few hours, Tracy and the babies were sleeping and Chris and I headed back to their house so he could get cleaned up and rest. But I needed to do it now, before I lost my nerve. When we got inside I confronted him.

“Chris, why did you sleep with me?” I must have taken him by surprise.

“What?”

“Why did you sleep with me?”

“I just… you were so lost… I just wanted to help.”

“Help? What the hell does that mean?”

“Look, Tracy told me that you were a little unsure…”

“You discussed this with Tracy?”

“We thought it would help if you had a friend help you out. Make the journey a little easier.”

My throat closed with pain. Tears stung my eyes. I turned away and tried to stop the sobs. Pity sex. I fell in love over a round of pity sex. My voice quivered, but I had to know. “So it meant nothing to you?”

“I didn’t say that, Ben. You are my best friend. I would do anything for you.”

“I didn’t need pity sex!”

“God damn it! It wasn’t like that.”

I turned to face him, unmindful of the tears that had fallen. What he saw must have been obvious, because he gasped. “Look, I’m going to go. I need to leave. And I don’t think I will be back.”

“Ben. Don’t do this. I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. I’m so sorry. Oh god Ben, why didn’t you say something?”

“What was there to say? I blew up a simple weekend into something more and then pined over it for four years. That just makes me pathetic.”

“No, oh God, Ben.”

“I’m going to go. Leave me alone for a while, okay? I will get over it, maybe. Eventually. Please?”

I went and grabbed my bags and was getting ready to leave. It was later in the day, I was sure to get some kind of flight out of Sacramento. I walked up to Chris. He looked sad and sorry. I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him. I kissed him slow and sweet then stepped away slowly. “Good bye Chris.” And then I was gone. I caught the first available flight out; it didn’t matter where it went. I ended up in Chicago. But it could have been anywhere. I checked into the closest hotel with room service. I slept a lot. I cried a lot. I drank a little, but it didn’t help. After five days, I felt a bit more stable. I decided to fly home and start picking up the pieces.

On the flight home, I just wanted to get there, so I ended up buying a first class ticket. I sat next to a man who was maybe thirty. He was dressed well in a nice suit. He was a couple of inches shorter than me and very handsome. After about an hour into the flight, he started talking to me. I don’t know why, after the last few days I was emotionally shot. I was really vulnerable. But he didn’t take advantage. Before the flight was over, we exchanged phone numbers. Once home, Matthew, the guy from the plane, called me. We talked for a couple of hours. Then he called again. I agreed to meet him for dinner. Then we went to a baseball game. I didn’t realize it, but over the course of four months, I had started to mend. I also had a great new friend. He didn’t pressure me for anything. After a few months, I told him all about Chris. He listened, he commiserated with me, but he didn’t brand me a fool. It was almost six months later that we were having dinner together one night.

“Ben, I want to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Would you consider taking our relationship further?”

“You mean sex?”

“I prefer to think of it as making love, but basically, yes.”

“But, why? I mean, why me?”

“Because I love you.”

Love me, when did this happen? I was shocked. I was amazed. I also felt really good. In the past six months, since leaving Sacramento, I have slowly started to put the past behind me. I don’t remember starting. I don’t remember most of it. All I really remember is Matthew. He talked and joked and sat by me. I immediately felt ashamed. He had given so much and had gotten so little. I told him so.

“Don’t you know that I could see how much you were hurting? It tore me up inside. Your friends were trying to help. But they did the worst thing to you with the best of reasons. It was enough to wait. It was enough to know that you were starting to feel more confident, more secure and less sad. I don’t regret the past six months, not at all. And I got a lot out of it, I got to fall in love with you.”

Put that way, I could hardly resist. I went home with him. We lay on his huge bed and slowly undressed each other. We kissed and held each other, skimming our hands over our bodies, feeling each and every bit of skin. When we were both naked, he took my hand and kissed the palm before lowering it to his erection. I squeezed him and watched Matthew shudder. Then he took his hand and trailed it from where he cupped my face, down my chest until he circled my own shaft. We moved over each other so slowly, stroking and caressing. I watched his face and his pleasure reflected in his eyes. I felt his breath hitch beneath my other hand, placed gently over his heart. I could tell he was close to the end, so I kissed him, gently, slowly. The moment I moved my tongue into his mouth, he cried out around it and spasms shook my hand as he flooded against me. Then everything tightened in me and I cried out as wave after wave of pleasure hit me. We stared in each other’s eyes for several minutes. We were sticky and dripping, but it just seemed right to stay that way. It was several minutes later, but we started kissing and rolling around on each other, both of us so hard. The time for gentleness was over. Now was time for raw, sexual, frenzied energy.

I moved over his body, exploring the swirls of dark hair covering his chest, belly and legs, in such stark contrast to my own virtually hairless body. I tasted his skin, nipped and sucked at the smooth texture, delved into his armpits, the small of his back, the back of his knees, the dent of his navel. I kissed and tasted his hips, bit into his shoulder, lapped at the hollow of his throat then moved down his body and tasted all of him. I moved over him, taking the head of his cock in my mouth, feeling its strength and tasting his essence. Matthew moaned under me as I swirled my tongue around him. I had barely gotten a rhythm going when he pulled me away from him and flipped me onto my back. He returned the favor, moving over my body, finding where I am ticklish, tasting my skin. Then he took me in his mouth. The sensations had me rising off the bed. I was amazed and floored by the raw passion I felt from him. But if he didn’t stop, it was going to be over with and soon.

I pulled him away from my flesh and watched as his mouth continued to move, seeking my penis as if it were a pacifier. The sight alone, of him wanting me, needing me, almost had my lose it. I rolled him over and under me, pinning him to the bed and I kissed him. He pulled away from the kiss and asked me to make love to him, to be inside him. I nodded my head and moved down his body, wanting to make him ready with my mouth. And I did. I kissed and suckled at his opening, lapping at it, loving him until it was open. Then I dove inside, tasting and licking him deeply. Matthew kept crying out, pounding the bed with his fist, overwhelmed by the intense sensations. He was panting, begging me to end it. I rose over him and gently cupped his body to me, kneeling between his legs, letting my body rest against his hairy one. Then I moved forward, parting and joining with him. He gave way almost instantly and I paused, feeling him surround me, adjust to me.

He pushed back against me, taking me deeper. And I lost what little control I had. I began to move. I pulled almost out so slowly, only to plunge back in hard and fast, only to do it again, then again. I kept moving into him in long strokes, feeling him grip me, hearing his cries of pleasure. He kept his hands on my ass, caressing me, holding me, urging me forward. I kept moving, feeling his belly tighten beneath mine. I ground harder against him, framing his steely cock between the two sweaty planes of our body, grinding the head into our flesh. And then he let go, crying out and releasing several heavy pulses of his semen, coating our chests and bellies with his essence. I kept moving; amazed at what I had seen. Then he squeezed me hard with his body and it was too much. Three heavy thrusts later and I exploded. Six, seven, eight heavy spasms shook my body as I emptied myself deep inside my lover.

I stayed coupled with him, resting deep inside as I lowered my body to his. I breathed heavily and my heart eventually slowed. But my body trembled in his arms. Shook from the physical as well as emotional journey we had traveled together. I pulled my head up so I could look at him. His eyes were closed and he had the most contented grin on his face. He opened his eyes to look at me.

“I love you, Matthew.”

He smiled at me. “I know.”

“This isn’t some afterglow ‘see you later’ speech. I mean it.”

“I know. I love you too.”

He kissed my lips gently and with that I got hard. Only to start the journey over again that we had just shared. Over and over that night we came together only to fall into a deep sleep in the early hours of the morning. I knew it wasn’t a dream, a one-sided fling the next morning, while sharing breakfast in the arms of my lover, my love, my everything.

**

A lot of you have asked for my real story. This is it.--to a point. When I left Sacramento, I didn’t fly to Chicago, I flew home. I poured myself into work. I hid. I was hurting and I didn’t want anyone to know. I felt foolish and just plain pathetic. So what could have been accomplished in just a few months, has taken a few years. But I am mending. Some day soon I will put myself out there again, willing to risk it all. Somehow I think my stories have helped. At least in them I am thinking about love. I’m a procrastinator at heart and I gladly put off until tomorrow what I could so easily do today. Call me a fool, but I am getting there.