Gay Erotic Stories

My whole life had been a homosexually repressed nightmare, I never left my room, silently jerking off in private to the various gay porno mags, videos and books I bought at a Different Light in West Hollywood. I felt so alone, as if I would never meet anyone-- I slit my wrists last fall in a fit of despair. I was committed Briefly, but the only thing I could think about was how cute my psychiatrist looked in the mental hospital. I didn't need drugs, Prozac or electric shock therapy, I needed a big huge THROBBING COCK up my ass and in my mouth where it belonged--like god intended it be. I waited and waited, sure that I would never find anyone, while falling deeper and deeper into my despair. Then there was my obsession. I had watched my neighbor undress through his window for four years now, ever since I turned fifteen and went through puberty. I was eighteen now and my neighbor had only gotten cuter. He had graduated college now and had some gorgeous blond bimbo girlfriend, who he brought over every night to fuck. I would listen to them through my open window, the soft sounds of his animal groans and he strode her. the ecstasy that came over his face when he orgasmed (did I mention, he didn't believe in curtains?) I knew I would never have him, but still I watched and watched, fascinated somehow by him, not just because he was a gorgeous, tall Latino with short cropped brown hair and a hairy chest. Or because he walked around his room butt naked sometimes for up to half an hour freely, before he hopped in the shower. I saw he was hung like a stallion. His manhood swinging around as he strode from end to end of the room. He looked to me better than any of the men in my gay pornos, because he had a certain mystery about him. He wasn't just an enormous hunk of beef without a brain who liked to shoot his load over some pretty girl's face and make her lick it off with her hands. He had depth too, because some nights I would see him pace back and forth around his room thinking so many thoughts that he could not contain. Writing poetry with a kind of urgency that only madmen and great writers do. God, I wanted to suck his cock and discuss philosophy with him. So I came up with a crazy plan, a madman's plan which I could always cop out on as my medication not working, or me just being a crazy fuck. I snuck into his window one day when he was at work and spied around his room. It felt so exciting to be around all his things, to touch them as if I were touching him. I snuck into his underwear drawer and sniffed all his underwear, they were clean, dammit!! So I went into the bathroom where I found a dirty pair lying on a floor mat. Oh yes, they smelled like his sweaty cock and balls. Like his ass and some dried semen on them. I had the scent of him in me and I was overwhelmed by it. Then I rummaged around his drawers, found condoms and a book of his poetry. I began to read reverently. "...then he strokes my gentle thighs, penetrates me with his savage cock like a lion sparing no anger....." I gasped!! These were gay poems. They couldn't be his! I saw him fuck his girlfriend every single night when he got home from work. That was when I heard a car pulling up in the driveway. OH SHIT! I wouldn't have enough time to sneak back out.....there were the sound of voices....approaching! It was Anthony, my neighbor and another guy talking loudly. I peeked from around the corner, they began kissing and ripped each other's clothes off..... TO BE CONTINUED