Gay Erotic Stories

In the beginning, the problem was that I was afraid to tell anyone I was gay. Then I made friends with another gay boy and was scared to tell him how I felt about him or even if I should tell him at all. When I finally got up the courage to tell him how I felt, I backed off afraid he might not feel the same about me. Suddenly, being gay was not as big a problem as a lack of courage. "You're a coward!" I yelled at my reflection in my bathroom mirror. "You're going to be afraid all your life!" Things began to change for the better in my senior year of high school. I began focusing on things I wanted. A better car, for instance. I was amazed at how easily I attracted attractive boys when I talked about cars. The same was true when I moved into my first apartment. I was amazed at how easy it was to talk somebody into sleeping over. The car and apartment were a comfortable middle ground between me and another guy. Whatever happened after we got to know one another depended upon luck. I had plenty of that the first time I shared my bed. The face on the other pillow never stopped smiling, anyway. And then we were in each other's arms, kissing. I came in my underpants, I was so excited. I wanted to hide under the bed, I was so embarrassed. If he noticed, he never let on. He lay there transfixed when we weren't kissing. Then, in one swift move, he reversed our positions, raised up out of my arms, and left the bed to shove down his underpants. He came back to me fully-erect and grinning. Now I was the one who was transfixed. His erection was huge. "You're not nervous, are you? "No. Not a bit," I replied, and freed myself of my underpants. Our bodies barely skimmed as our mouths met in one more soft, tentative kiss. "You're not scared?" he had to know. "I gave up being scared a long time ago," I assured him.