Gay Erotic Stories

We met at a club in Johannesburg's plush Northcliff Suburb on a Friday night. The rave scene had just hit South Africa in a big way and I took to it like a duck to water. Having only been out for over a year myself, I still went to straight clubs with my girlfriends and there partners.

As it happened, I didn't even like this particular club, it was called "The Gecko Lounge". It was in a really posh side of town though, and it was really intimate. Only around 100/50 people could get in, and as it turned out, the same people where there over and over, every weekend. As a result, it had an almost "family feel" to it.

In any event, they had a shit hot DJ, great sound and an awesome light system. All the better for rushing your face off on ecstasy!

So one fateful Friday, Jennifer drag's me along to the Gecko Lounge. It was to be the first of many, many wild parties, beautiful people and mind blowing drug occasions, this club turned out to be my favourite haunt after a while.

As soon as Jennifer and I entered the club on this night, I knew it was going to be a great evening, the crowd was jumping, the music was pumping and the first of many pills had just kicked in. I was looking and feeling fabulous! A provincial club rugby player, my 6ft frame was hard, toned and tanned. Jennifer and I had just been shopping that afternoon and I looked fabulous.

The night went on without event until at one stage Jennifer had said that she was way to trashed to be dancing and needed to get to the chill out area. I duly obliged as I was rather wasted myself.

We sat in the corner having an awesome time watching the clubbers go by...like a scene from a movie, suddenly the lights went down - save for one blue spotlight, pointed at the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

He was there, in a tight black shirt, khaki cargos and sketchers. He's short hair stuck down on his head from the sweat of dancing. Green eye's even from the distance we were, piercing, and a smile that could stop a battleship.

Suddenly he came over, to speak to Jennifer; it was obvious that he was straight. He came over to ask for...wait for it....lip ice (the South African version of Chapstick!) And just like that our lives became so intertwined it would take thousand novels to relate.

The condensed version is that we became firm friends throughout our drug years and continue to be friends now, though he is in South Africa and I am now in London.

To understand how beautiful this boy is, you would have to imagine somewhere between the gorgeousness of Brad Pitt, and the Masculinity of Antonio Banderas (he is of Portuguese Descent, you get the picture). His shoulders are broad and his skin taught, he has narrow pink lips and a chiseled jaw. Perfect smile and olive skin, a smooth flat and six-pack stomach, thick masculine and powerful thighs lead down to perfectly carved calf muscles.

His smell is one of pure unadulterated man and his manner and demeanour so perfectly matched. He is the perfect blend of masculine arrogance without being vain, aggressive without being confrontational and absolutely powerful without being a brute.

Yes, I loved him than - and I love him still, nothing will ever change that.

The problem is, that Xavier is straight. So he keeps saying.

Now I am not the obsessive type, but I have been around a few times and I know when a man is interested - but afraid of what would happen. Come on, we have all been there before. The straight soccer player on your team who can't get enough of your company, who touches you and bleeds your heart dry - but never commits physically? What about your best friend, the quarterback who can't take his eye's off you when he's sober, much less he's hands when he's drunk but will never take it further - you all know what I am talking about.

The straight boy - best - friends, who just like you wishes it could be more but simply can not move past the physical barrier. That is Xavier.

Oh to be in his arms, first thing in the morning was like awaking to a new Africa, a place where dreams did not come to die. Sadly, they did.

I love him still. I will love him always. I will love him while kissing his face, while running my fingers through his hair. I will love him while I nuzzle he's neck and kiss his smooth, hairless chest. While I stroke he's body with feathers and flower petals in the harsh sunlight of a South African daybreak with the last rashes of night slowly surrendering to the sun. In the heat of the morning I will kiss he's eyes and his mouth, and he's taste will linger the whole day. I will inhale his smell, fresh from sleep on warm body heated sheets. This will be the morning of physical expression of what dwells emotionally. I will kiss and lick every crevice, every rise and every fall of his tanned skin and beautiful body. I will hold and take within, his essence. As I stroke his hardening penis with strong and deliberate hands, I will take him to the plateau many times, but never let him cross into the abyss. With my mouth I will suck in his masculinity, yearning for he's gift which sustains me. He will harshly and firmly lift my head from his veined, thick and uncut penis to kiss me again and selfishly reclaim what little pre-cum I have managed to savour.

As he turns me over, he will kiss my back and my shoulders while whispering his feelings for me, my skin is set alight, on fire as he breathes down the length of my body, tanned, tight skin, envelopes, hard, taught body as he slowly begins the process of man love. He will patiently lube my awaiting arse as I gently rise to meet the probing of his fingers, he's breathing will signal his readiness to enter me and I will rise to my hands and knees. he enters me purposefully with one hard thrust and begins to pummel my inner depths. I will take him with pain and I will take him all the way. His thick, hard penis probing the very depths of my soul will awaken the longing within me that has laid dormant until this moment. I will tighten him inside and roll my hips in response to his assault; I will throw my head back in pained, pleasured anguish as still he is relentless in his thrusting. We will become an amoeba; a sea creature beating with one heart, molding into one being. As he explodes inside me I will receive every last ounce of his sperm; my gift, his essence.

We collapse on the bed with the African sun blaring through the windows, sweaty, not yet satiated but rejuvenated by our lovemaking.

Still inside me I feel him harden again, he is not yet done. Turning me over to kiss me hard and deep, he lifts my legs over he's shoulders and looks deep into my eyes, with his essence still inside me; he slowly enters me again, promising me release for his pleasure. he begins again to enter and withdraw in that selfish way which denotes his masculine superiority his balls slapping my arse as his efforts increase in speed and depth. Now he's beautiful features are contorted with a rage unknown to even himself, compelled to complete this self-appointed task he turns wild with lust and anger. I begin to feel the passion within me rise as he calls out in lustful agony announcing his own, second triumph of the day. I can not help myself as my own hard, thick and uncut penis begins to explode as if in surrender of this assault.

The passion becomes me and I scream out, begging for it never to end.

Alas, the time has passed for this coupling, as he kisses me gently, and holds my sweating body tight, one last time before withdrawing from me and leaving my bed to prepare for his day.

Obviously, this is my just a fantasy right?

But I will love him always and only hope that he will someday take that chance; until then, I will never leave, I will never stop waiting.