Gay Erotic Stories

Let me tell you about my teen years: I wasted them idolizing every good looking guy who enjoyed popularity. I didn't like myself and couldn't imagine anyone else liking me, either. My teacher-counselor called me "the poster boy for low self-esteem." My closest friend called me a "dork." I thought I'd be accepted if I dressed like other guys, spend a little more money on clothes. But no matter what clothes I wore, I didn't look acceptable. I was too short, too skinny, too this, too that, and on and on. My chin was too round and my nose seemed crooked. Relatives had to move in with my mom and I before I consented to going to an after school dance in my senior year of high school. The following year, I attended my second dance. I ended up sitting in the bleachers with a guy who couldn't stop talking. He wasn't the best looking guy I ever met, but he made friendship easy. "You want to go someplace for a burger?" he asked, and I left with him. His name was Elliot. He hated the name, he said, because it sounded like Idiot. "You'll never be accepted with a name like that," he went on, and began a harsh self-assessment that sounded very much like my own. Three blocks away from school, we remembered we were going for burgers. But we were closer to his house, he said, so we went there and settled for cold beer. He turned on a TV, but continued talking. He had to tell me his life story. "You don't mind me going on like this, do you?" he finally asked. "No, but it's getting late and I'd better go." I swear to God, tears welled in his eyes. "Do you have to?" he asked. "Yeah, I have to." "Well, let me walk you home." "He's really interested in me!" I marveled. I had to find out just how far this interest went. Since my conversation skills were nil, the best I could do was set up a situation and see what moves he'd make. "Well, maybe I can stay a little while longer," I said. He led me to his room, turned on another TV, and pointed to his bed. I kicked off my shoes and settled back while he fetched me another cold beer from his fridge. He turned off the overhead light when he returned and stretched out beside me. After a minute or so, he wanted my stomach for a pillow. "There he goes," I thought, feeling his arm move across my legs and then up. He had to feel me shaking, we were that close. No, he didn't notice that, he noticed the bulge in my jeans. I turned my face away and held my breath as he unfastened my jeans. I raised my hips so he could take my jeans and underpants down. And then he wanted my T-shirt off. He wanted me naked. Stepping off the end of his bed, he quickly stripped throwing clothes in every direction. "Oh, God," was all he could say as he came into my arms. I began to understand how gay guys could be a little nutty at times. There I was feeling sorry for myself when along came Elliot. It was like, "Huh? What? You interested in me? You can't be!" But he was. And still is. Today, we're living together. Life has been good to both of us.