Gay Erotic Stories

This story is true. Nothing has been changed. Summer 1976. I was going to summer school in Flagstaff, Arizona. Here I was, in one of the most beautiful places on the face of the earth, studying mathematics at a mid-sized university and utterly alone. At the tender age of 21, I was still deeply in the closet, constantly lusting after the beautiful, adorable and studly young men in my midst. I admired the beautiful bodies and handsome faces. It was my tragedy that those years went by so quickly, and I never met Mr. Right. I had moved into the dorm used for summer school students, and like usual, had no roommate lined up. I always took my chances. You meet interesting people that way. But I never seemed to wind up with the perfect "10". The pretty boys never came my way, at least not until I heard the key in the lock, the door swing open and Brian entered my life. Here he was; my "10". Here was the nicest looking guy I had ever seen. Brian was not tall, maybe 5'7". He had shoulder length blond hair, a great beard, ripped abs, we'll-muscled legs and the most gorgeous green eyes you've ever seen. His face was magnificent: not a pretty boy, but a boyishly handsome one. He was a business major at school on a football scholarship. That sent up red flags; aren't all athletes straight? At that age I thought so. And as Brian was to demonstrate, he had more than his share of women. It was tough being gay in the same room with the awesome stud. Every time he changed I managed furtive looks. I followed him into the showers in the morning, hoping to someday get a good look at what seemed to be a nice sized dick. He seemed oblivious to me and didn't notice my looks. If he noticed my hardons he never said anything. After a week had gone by, I had gotten to know him well. We went drinking together and to dinner. We even split a bottle of Wild Turkey together. He liked me and I adored him. I was also working that summer, sometimes very late. One Friday I came in late, and as I couldn't see any light under the door, I quietly opened it and left the light off. I went over to my side of the room and took off my clothes and grabbed my robe. After working in a bar for eight hours I smelled like booze and cigarettes and couldn't stand it and thought I would take a shower. I turned to leave the room, and there, in the moonlight entering the room, was the object of my desire. Even in Flagstaff, summer evenings can be warm and both Brian and I usually slept in shorts and on top the sheets. There, for my enjoyment, was Brian's erection, sticking out through the leg of his shorts. It was aiming down his leg, and, oh, was it huge. I had never seen anything so large. The large head was sticking out of its foreskin just a little. I stood close to him, being utterly silent. My cock was already totally hard as I stared at the magnificent sight. I wanted to reach out so badly and touch it. I wanted to know how hard it was. I wanted to pull the foreskin off of the head. I wanted his cock so much. Then Brian moved. Just a little. But enough to scare me shitless. I hurriedly left the room. Did he know I was staring at his large cock? Did he find out I was a fag, who wanted to make love to his manhood? Would he move out and ask for a new roommate? Could he tell that my cock was hard? And much smaller? A million questions went through my head. I stayed in the shower a long time and jacking off while I was there. When I was done I went back to the room and was as quiet as possible. I slid into my bed, my heart pounding. After a few moments I dared to look over to Brian to see if the big cock was still on display. It was, and I was now more scared than ever. There in the dim light, Brian was very slowly jacking off, rubbing his left hand slowly over the big head, retracting his foreskin, making himself feel good. I lay there transfixed for several minutes. I was scared, excited and hard again. He was putting on a show, just for me! And then he said it: "Why don't you come over here?" I played stupid and asked him what he wanted. He knew I was playing dumb, and asked me to come over to his bed. I got up and walked towards him. When I got next to his bed, he sat up and reached out with his strong hands and unsnapped my shorts. For the first time in my life another man had seen my erection. He said it was beautiful as he cupped my balls in one hand and began massaging the base of my cock with his other. I stood motionless. After a few moments, he took my cock into his mouth. It felt so good. He had obviously done this before. My cock is not large, about 5 inches hard and he had no trouble taking the entire length into his mouth. When it was obvious that I was about to cum, I asked him to stop and warned him that he probably didn't want my cum in his mouth. But he grabbed me firmly from behind and kept sucking. I exploded in a star-making orgasm. My cum pumped into his eager mouth. I never knew that a blow job could be so great. He sucked a few minutes more, and then stood up. I figured it was my turn to suck him, so I started to kneel but he stopped me. He took my hand and placed it on his large cock. He said he just wanted a hand job. Having never jerked another cock, I wasn't sure what to do. His cock really was big. My hand wouldn't reach all the way around it, and as I was to find out later, it was just about 8 inches long. He showed me how to stroke it and how to fondle his large balls. When he came, he pumped out a large load of hot fluid, splattering on the dorm room floor. Then he held me near to him and he kissed me. At last, someone loved me. For the rest of the summer sessions, about eight weeks, Brian and I made love whenever we could. We would sneak into the same shower stall. We put our beds together. He taught me to suck his big dick. We never had anal intercourse, as neither of us found that exciting. Brian still had his girlfriends, and I would be lying to say it didn't matter. But I knew that when he came home, his beautiful body and big cock were mine. At the end of the summer, Brian decided to move back home and finish school elsewhere. I was crushed. Our last night together was memorable, and sad. I'll never forget the last time I saw him: his Mustang packed, he opened the car door and looked up to the dorm window where I was watching, tears streaming down my face. He waved. I feebly raised a hand and waved back. He got in and drove out of my life. There has never been another Brian in my life. And despite repeated attempts at finding him, I haven't been successful. When my life seems likes it's in the dumps, when I feel that life is passing me by, I think back to the wonderful summer of 1976 and recall the beautiful young stud who made me feel alive, wanted and loved. I hope that all gay men have a least one Brian in their life at some time. Peace, Brian.