Gay Erotic Stories

Anonymity was the reason I moved to Los Angeles after graduating from high school. L.A. promised an opportunity to live out my sexual fantasies without any worries about the folks at home finding out. After only a few days, however, I wished I'd never left home. Cold indifference was all I got from people I met, including a landlord who didn't think he needed permission to enter my apartment and help himself to whatever was in my fridge. I gave it a month, but moved after only a week. I needed someone to respond to me in a positive way. I made a new life living at the Y. I know that sounds weird, but there I met guys who took me places and showed me a great time. One even helped me find a job. But so many guys seemed to be wandering "want-to-be's. I'd meet a really attractive guy, look for him to return later in the evening, but never see him again. The Y was a place where an attractive guy was placed on a pedestal and your greatest disappointment was seeing him check out. Disappointment, however, was soon forgotten in your hustle to meet someone new. You didn't get laid sitting in your room with the door closed. There was so much I didn't dare tell my parents in my letters, I began to wonder if I'd just stop writing after a while. I couldn't lie to my parents. I couldn't tell them the truth, either. Hearing their voices on the telephone was the hard part. I couldn't get them out of my thoughts after that. When your parents are ever in your thoughts and you feel guilty about a secret life you're living, what do you do? I went home.