Gay Erotic Stories

I had worked various construction jobs since leaving home at 17. I haven’t stayed in one place or held a job for any longer than three months until last year. I hit San Antonio and met some people, liked my job, and here I am. My boss, Brian, and I really hit it off. He is married and 25 to my 23. Every Friday after work, the crew would head to a bar; Brian usually joined us for at least one beer. After a few weeks at work, we started talking more than just pleasantries. Turned out we had both played basketball in school and still enjoyed watching the games. We decided to catch a few Spurs games.

During one of the games, Brian told me about his sister-in-law, how great she was, pretty, single, etc. I then turned to him and told him I was gay. I expected a bad reaction and that that night’s game would be our last. Instead he laughed, said sorry and asked if I would like to meet his cousin, Mark. We both laughed and everything was okay. It was nice to have him not care, or at least have it not matter so much.

Each week our friendship grew greater and stronger. I was incredibly attracted to him, but nothing was going to happen, so I quashed those thoughts and just enjoyed having a close friend again. Okay, so he was beautiful with dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes and when he was working in the hot sun would take his shirt off and I would have to catch my breath. We were friends, and a friend is something I hadn’t had since before I left home. Even if he was so massively muscled with no fat on him or had a gorgeously hairy chest that covered his pectorals perfectly and grew so thick and dark along his sternum and continued south to whirl along his navel down into his jeans. And even if his jeans hugged the most perfect ass and bulged so invitingly, he was a friend. And straight. And married. Damn! After a few months, I hardly noticed his body anymore. Well just a little, here and there. I was afraid my staring was obvious, but I drew more attention because no matter how hot the Texan summer, I never was without my long sleeved shirt. I took some ribbing for it, but I never stripped down.

A few months later, Brian didn’t show up at the site one Tuesday. He always showed up at least for a few hours. But, we did our work and came back the next day. By Friday, Brian had still not showed up, and we were worried . . . he never missed any time without contacting someone. After the obligatory beer with the crew – they also didn’t care about my being gay – I headed home to my empty apartment and worried.

I had just crawled into bed when someone started pounding on my door. I got up and dressed and answered the door. There stood Brian, so miserable looking, unshaven and disheveled, and incredibly sad. He smiled at me sheepishly and giggled; I knew he was drunk. He staggered into my arms and I caught him before he fell and he asked if he could come in. “What’s wrong?”

He started to cry and hiccup. “My wife left me, she moved out Monday while I was at work and had me served with divorce papers as I got home.”

I was shocked; my apologies seemed to make him more upset.

“She left me and when I had my meeting with her and her lawyer today, she told me everything. Absolutely everything.” He was so miserable. So lost. I knew he would tell me about it, he just needed some time to get it out. Well, sleep was overrated anyway.

Over the next few hours, I got the whole story. Brian’s wife had been having an affair off and on since they had started dating in high school. She was pregnant and wanted to marry the baby’s father. When I asked why she thought Brian wasn’t the father, he told me he and his wife hadn’t slept together that often recently and when they did, she made him use a condom. He was devastated; he really wanted to be a daddy. When he found out she was pregnant, he thought he was the father and so happy about it. But he wasn’t and she had had the blood work done to prove it. He was so devastated that he started crying again. He was one of those who became weepy when drunk. I decided a cab home would be a waste.

I helped him off the couch and helped guide him to my room. Brian is 6’ 6” and even though I am 6’ 3” he outweighs me by a good 60 pounds. Needless to say, it was a long and trying trip the twenty feet to my bedroom. He collapsed on the bed and I tugged his shoes off, rolling him onto his side into the middle of my full size bed. I then grabbed the sheet from the bottom of the bed and covered him. He murmured a little and started to relax. I grabbed a blanket from the closet and covered him with it. I intended to sleep on the couch and grabbed my quilt and was heading for my pillow. Brian grabbed my arm and pulled me down on the bed with him. He wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear.

“Don’t leave me alone, Simon. Please?”

“Shh. I won’t go.” I then wrapped my arms around him and just held on. Rocked him a little back and forth and smoothed his hair. He drifted off to sleep and I knew it had been a mistake. All these months I had lied to myself, and now I knew the truth. I had fallen in love with my friend. I started to cry a little and must have woken Brian.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why the tears?”

“I would have to be a stone cold bastard to not hurt when my best friend is hurting,” and I gave him a tremulous smile that I hoped didn’t wobble too much or reveal what I had just figured out. He then leaned forward and kissed my check and thanked me for being there, he hadn’t known where else to go. He drifted off again. I just lay there and waited for the sun to rise. I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t my feelings or even his presence that kept me from sleeping; I just can’t relax and sleep around another person: Just one of the many reasons I was alone.

The next morning, Brian asked me to help him at his home. He needed to clean out some things and didn’t want to do it alone. I waited for him to shower away the hangover, trying hard not to think of his big, strong, hairy body in my shower. It somewhat worked; it helped straightening my bed and clothes. I was lost when he came out of the bathroom, wearing a smile and a towel, low on his hips. He was such a large man that his thigh showed through the slit in the towel. Strong, tanned and hairy . . . he was so beautiful, I couldn’t catch my breath. His smile made my stomach drop and my chest tighten.

“Can I borrow some clothes till I get home?”

I simply nodded like an idiot and got him some of my baggier clothes. On the way to his house I tried not to think of my underwear hugging his crotch and caressing his ass. I crossed my legs, no easy feat in a truck, to hide my growing arousal.

We spent the day packing up all of his wife’s stuff. Hour upon hour we packed clothes and pictures; only her personal items. Apparently, she had gone out of the country to get a quick divorce. She didn’t want anything from Brian and he was so disgusted with her he just wanted her out. We packed up her stuff and called for a mover to come and pick it up. It was just about sunset when we were done. He said he wanted no reminders. After the movers, I helped him move his things out of the master bedroom into a guest room with a queen sized bed and a huge closet with a great bathroom with a huge walk-in shower and two-person Jacuzzi tub. His house was quite large with three bedrooms. The previous owners designed the room he moved to as a mother-in-law apartment. The house was shaped like a U and in the middle was a large pool and patio. I liked his house a lot.

When his new room was arranged as he liked it, he asked if I wanted to go for a swim but I declined. He then offered to take me to dinner and he gave me some of his clothes. I went into his spare bathroom upstairs and prepared for my shower. The mirror on the wall was huge, at least 6’ by 4’. I couldn’t cover it, so after locking the door, I hurried and tried not to look in the mirror. Tried but failed. All the warm feelings I was having disappeared and after the shower told Brian I couldn’t go with him. I asked him to take me back to my place and when he did I told him I would see him Monday at work. I knew he wanted to ask questions, but I couldn’t answer them and was grateful when he let it go. I went inside and cursed myself for trying to be normal, for hoping to have something I would never have.

Six weeks later, my lease was up on my apartment. I thought about leaving again and finding someplace new. I just couldn’t face another move. If I was honest, I couldn’t leave Brian. But, I couldn’t stay at my apartment either: they were demolishing or remodeling it, something to that effect. So I told Brian the next day at work that I would be moving, but didn’t know where. He asked me if I needed help moving. I told him I always lived in furnished apartments and had nothing but clothes and one or two personal items; everything fit in my truck and that’s how I liked it. I realized how pathetic it sounded, how lonely. Brian suggested I live in his house with him. With him in the downstairs, I would have the upstairs bedrooms to myself. I didn’t want to agree, I knew I would end up hitting on him or throwing myself at him. I somewhat surprised myself when I heard myself saying yes before I had thought it through more thoroughly. That weekend I moved in and we started a very good living arrangement.

Over the next few months, we talked and laughed and played. We were teenagers again. We would roughhouse and laugh; we barbequed and shared chores. It was the most fun I had had in years. I didn’t worry about the past, only enjoyed the moment. Every Sunday I would call my dad at home and catch up with him. Things were going so well. Brian didn’t even question some of my weird habits; how I slept with my bedroom door locked and only showered with the bathroom locked inside my locked bedroom. The master bathroom had a deep tub, and I preferred it, felt safer.

About six months after his divorce, Brian told me he was going on a date on Friday. I knew I loved him, but still could wish him happiness. He then floored me by asking why I didn’t date.

“It’s been four months since you’ve been here. You don’t date, you don’t go anywhere unless with me, or to run errands. Why?”

I kept trying to steer him away from the questions I couldn’t answer. But, he kept persisting.

“If you think I would mind you bringing someone home with you, I wouldn’t. Do you think I would care about something like that?”

He was so hurt I had to tell him that I knew he wasn’t like that. But he just wouldn’t let it go. He asked all the questions that I knew he wanted to, I had just hoped to have some more time before it was all over. Thankfully the phone rang and saved me. It was my dad. I just listened; he never called unless there was an emergency. I heard what he said and felt like I was drowning. The panic took over, I couldn’t breath, and the room swam. I was able to tell him goodbye before sinking to the floor, hyperventilating.

Brian was on me instantly. I was wearing a western style shirt with snap buttons; he had given it to me for my 24th birthday. He pulled the collar open in such a rush; he yanked almost all of them open down to my belly. That’s when he saw the deep scar on my chest. He ran his fingers along it and he noticed another which he followed, then another, and another after that. He looked into my eyes and knew I was too far into my panic attack to answer his obvious questions. He worked with me, tried to calm me, matched his breathing to mine than slowed it. He helped me up and to the sofa. He sat across from me on a chair he pulled up until I calmed down.

“I think you need to tell me what happened. I know why you are always covered up, but I think there is more to it than that. You love your father and are always so happy to talk to him. You were terrified. Why?”

I took a deep breath and started. I didn’t want to. But, there was no choice. And it all just started coming out . . .

“My mom died when I was 16. She had been sick with cancer for 3 years. It was almost a blessing when she died. My dad had kept it together the entire time she was sick. He held on when she died, through the funeral and the gathering afterwards at the house. When the last person left, he collapsed to his knees at the stairs to the bedrooms. I helped him up and half carried him to his room, away from where my mother’s sick bed had been. I helped him into bed and covered him. I had never seen my dad cry before. He was inconsolable.

“I made my way downstairs, thinking to clean up before he woke up in the morning. I came into the kitchen to find my best friend, Jason, loading the dishwasher. He had gathered plates and glasses and had bagged some garbage. I went in to help him and we quickly finished. He helped me to my room where grief took over. Jason put me to bed, slipped off my shoes and just held me. But I couldn’t stop crying. Jason kept trying to quiet me, but it did no good. Finally he kissed me. Slow and steady. It was wonderful and I stopped crying and fell asleep. I woke up alone.

“She died just at the beginning of summer. My dad took a leave of absence and we spent most of the summer together. When we got home so I could go back to school, I went to see Jason. I wanted to thank him for everything the night of the funeral. When I got to his home, he was cold, aloof, almost like he didn’t want to see me. I realized he was embarrassed by what had happened. I knew the kiss didn’t mean anything. That it only happened to try and calm me down. I tried to tell him. He just said forget it and shut the door in my face.

“Jason was a year older; he was a senior to my junior. In early November, Jason came over to my house one Friday. We had hardly spoken in the previous months. We were alone and he wanted to apologize for how he treated me. He said he didn’t mean for anything to affect our friendship, but it had. He then hugged me. I was just glad that we were friends again.

I pulled back and looked at him with a goofy grin. He stilled and leaned in and kissed me again. One thing led to another and we were naked on my bed. I started kissing him on his chest and stomach, going down further and further. I ended up blowing him. I thought that maybe we were going to be together; maybe we would be lovers and friends. After he came, he was up and out my door. I was confused and a little hurt. I didn’t understand. The next day I went to see him at his house and he refused to see me, saying he had homework. I figured fine, no big deal. He regretted what happened. So I decided to give him time. I went to school on Monday and thought no more of it. Well, at least not much anyway.

“We were both into sports; he was into football, wrestling, and baseball. I was into swimming, basketball, and track. My school set up for all teams to have PE together just before lunch so the coaches could work with us on technique, exercise, and whatnot. We were both in the class. I was working on the basketball courts and the football team was in the weight room off the gym floor. I was playing basketball and my team was skins. We were playing really well and I just lost myself in the game. It wasn’t until someone on the opposite team was throwing free throws that I saw Jason outside of the weight room, staring at me. I developed early and was one of the first to get a hairy chest. I was standing there in my shorts and there was Jason, staring at me, he was hard as a rock in his loose shorts. I ignored him to finish the game.

“When the bell rang for end of class, I helped put away the equipment and was late going to the showers. I got in to the locker room and went in to the showers alone. I let the warm water soothe my confusion over Jason and his actions.

“When I got out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around me and was heading for my locker when I saw Jason watching me. I walked by him to go to my locker. He grabbed my arm and pushed me back. He punched me in the stomach. My towel dropped. I stood up and he punched me in the jaw. He then grabbed me and slammed into the wall. It was cement blocks covered with a mirror. My head crashed into the mirror and it broke. I was blacking out and slipping to the floor. He was still hard was all I thought as I blacked out.”

I swallowed hard and took off my shirt so Brian could see. I then stood up and dropped my jeans, toed off my shoes and socks and stood in front of him in my boxers.

“I woke up in the hospital twelve days later. I had a tube in my throat to breathe for me. My left leg and arm were in a cast and my chest and back were wrapped in bandages. My dad was sitting by my bed, holding my hand. I hurt so bad, Brian. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t move much. My dad was so happy to see me awake. He kissed my cheek and told me he loved me. I kept mouthing that I was so sorry. He kept telling me that I had nothing to be sorry for. Later, I was given a report of my injuries.”

I pointed on my body to Brian as I listed them. I had my left shin broken and in a cast. My left forearm was snapped and also in a cast. My spleen and one kidney had been removed as well as several feet of my upper and lower intestine. My chest and back, upper arms and thighs were lacerated repeatedly. Some deep, some superficial; all had been painful.

“I was given the police report six weeks later, once I was out of my casts. When I didn’t get up, Jason proceeded to kick me repeatedly, stomping on my leg and arm, trying to wake me up. When that didn’t work, he picked up a chunk of the mirror and proceeded to cut me repeatedly. Two of the coaches came into the room and saw me bleeding on the ground with Jason kicking my stomach. They had to sit on Jason to stop him. His last kick hit me in the throat and bruised my larynx. One coach performed a tracheotomy on me waiting for the ambulance. I used to be able to sing, but all the damage to my throat destroyed my range. I had to learn how to walk again because the tendons in my leg were so badly damaged. I had to learn how to talk again after the tube was removed from my throat. Jason was eighteen and arraigned while I was still unconscious. He pled guilty and was sentenced to ten years.

“I was prepared to go back to school once I left the hospital. But, the school graduated me so I wouldn’t and avoid the scandal. Three months after the attack, I was getting ready to leave the hospital for good, and was getting dressed when I saw it in the mirror. They had hidden the mirrors from me so I could only see the scars on my arms and chest and legs. I now knew why my dad was pressing for plastic surgery.”

I stood up and turned my back to Brian and lowered my boxers over my left cheek. There, carved into my flesh was the word FAG. It was crude but legible. I pulled up my shorts and sat again, unable to raise my eyes to Brian. I knew if I saw pity, I would lose what little control I had.

“Just as I finished dressing, Jason’s dad stormed into my room. I was still in shock. He started screaming at me, accusing me of ruining his son’s life. How I seduced his boy and ruined his chances at college and pro ball. It was too much. I curled into a ball in the corner, afraid to look up, hyperventilating and terrified. My dad came in then and called for security. They couldn’t calm me down; they ended up letting me hyperventilate until I passed out. When I woke, I told my dad I was leaving, I wasn’t coming back. He asked me not to go, begged me; offered to come with me. I just shook my head and left that night. He gave me $5000 and hugged me. Told me he loved me and that nothing was my fault. I’ve been on the run since then. I have been in San Antonio the longest since I left. That was almost seven years ago.

“I know it’s pathetic, but, I couldn’t face anyone, I couldn’t let anyone know what had happened. Now you know.”

“What did your dad say on the phone to you to cause you to freak?” His voice wasn’t quite normal, scratchy, but I still couldn’t look at him.

“Jason is up for parole tomorrow.” I then forced myself to look at Brian. What I saw shocked me, he had tears running down his face and he looked so incredibly, I don’t know, proud maybe.

“What? Why the tears?”

He smiled at me. “I would have to be a stone cold bastard not to hurt when my best friend is hurting.” Then he hugged me, long and hard.

It was okay. He didn’t hate me or pity me, well maybe a little, but it didn’t change anything. That day Brian hauled me out to the pool still in my underwear and threw me in. We swam for most of the day before he made me get out and put on some sunscreen. It had been more than seven years since my body had felt the direct sunlight. He knew all my scars and it didn’t scare him or gross him out. He just was my friend. If I hadn’t already loved him I would have fallen right then. He even convinced me that the scars were light enough and faint enough to wear long shorts and t-shirts, which we went out and bought Monday night. Up to that point it was jeans and long sleeved shirts. He even talked me into v-necked ones.

It had been a very long time since I had seen my body for any length of time. I was stronger in the chest and arms. My chest was covered in golden fur as was my belly and lower arms to about mid bicep. I had no fat on me that I could see. I wasn’t bad looking. At 6’3” and about 215 I was not so awful. I wasn’t going to rush out and start modeling, but as long as my ass was covered, I was like a survivor of a car crash, the scars were there, but no one knew how they happened. That week at work, I even took off my shirt at the work site. Some just looked, they wanted to ask but didn’t. Others just saw what was my obvious reason for my modesty and accepted. Wednesday I went grocery shopping while Brian stayed home and did laundry. When I got home, Brian hugged me again then held me away from him to look at me. His throat was working for a couple of minutes before he spoke.

“We will work something out for the mirror in your bathroom.” I felt like a lovesick puppy. It was getting harder and harder to keep my feelings to myself. He had gone into my bathroom to check for towels and saw how I had covered my mirror up, except for a small patch to shave by. That week had become the best of my life. I swam again and sunned myself. I let the world see some of my scars and they looked, but didn’t shun me.

Friday came a little too soon for my liking, but I wished Brian well on his date and saw him to the door. I was surprised when I saw him again two hours later. He stomped into the house and collapsed on the sofa totally dejected.

“I didn’t date anyone in high school but my wife. I am out of practice and pissed off. God, Simon, it was awful.”

I tried to ask him how it went. He told me she didn’t laugh at his jokes, wasn’t interested in any of his hobbies or work and then flirted with a guy at the next table during desert. I tried to help; I asked him what the jokes were. I laughed so hard at them. Then, to try and cheer him, I made faces at him.

He laughed. “I love you, Simon.”

I thanked the gods for that, my heart sped up to bursting speed and I couldn’t breathe. “Thank God; I love you so much.” I lunged for his mouth and kissed him. His lips were so soft and tasted of the coffee he had drunk at dinner. I was lost in the kiss, my head spinning. Then, slowly, I realized that I was the only one involved in the kiss. I opened my eyes to see his, wide open and shocked. I pulled back and felt my heart rip in two. I whispered “sorry” and “I understand” and was up, out the door in my truck and two blocks away in 30 seconds. I drove around for a couple of hours.

When I was too tired to drive I pulled into an all night coffee shop and had some coffee and pushed around some food on a plate. I knew I would have to leave. No matter how Brian may care for me, I knew it wouldn’t work out. I drove home about 4 AM and went upstairs to pack. I was halfway through my packing when I heard Brian behind me.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Packing. Look Brian, I’m sorry for misreading things. But, I think it would be best if I left. You are a good man and despite this evening’s disastrous date, you are going to meet someone wonderful, she will knock your socks off and give you everything you want and need. You will have beautiful children and grow old together in this house.” I turned to him and smiled through the tears. “Be well Brian. You deserve so much happiness and joy.”

I then picked up my bags and went to walk by him. He stood in the doorway in his white BVDs. It was unfair; he was so beautiful. All hairy and strong with a slight frown pinching his eyebrows. I stopped in front of him, waiting for him to move. He stepped back after looking me in the eyes. I made it halfway down the hall when his voice stopped me.

“Your dad called after you left.” I stopped and spun around. My dad only called if there was an emergency.

“What’s wrong with my father? What happened Brian? Tell me!” I knew my voice was panicked but I couldn’t help it.

“Jason was released on Thursday and came to see your father today. He wants to see you.”

All my strength to hold up my bags fled my arms. My hands refused to let go and the weight of the bags dragged me down with them. My vision blurred and I knew I was hyperventilating and couldn’t stop. Brian was right there in front of me again. But he couldn’t stop this attack. I was too emotional, too tired to fight the panic and passed out from lack of oxygen.

I woke up in my bed, facing the windows. I rolled over to get my face out of the sun, and saw Brian lying next to me. It all came back. I knew I needed to get out of there, but I couldn’t stop looking at him sleeping. My eyes started to tear up. I loved him so much. A few minutes later, I shook myself and went to climb out of bed. Brian’s hand latched onto my arm and he pulled me back down to him.

“You said some nice things to me, then planned on leaving before I could respond. You’re not going anywhere.” I wasn’t afraid of him, but I knew not to fight him either.

“You are the best friend I have ever had. You were there when my wife left me. You helped me put my life back together. I do love you and have felt that way for some time. But I couldn’t sleep with you. There was a wall between my feelings and sex. I didn’t know it was there and I didn’t see it. Sex was never an issue, not even a possibility until you kissed me. My God, I was hard as a rock for two hours after you left. If it hadn’t been for your father’s phone call, I would still be. While on that awful date, I kept thinking how you would have gotten the jokes and you would have been able to talk to me. Then I knew I wouldn’t have even had to try to joke with you. We could have talked or not, joked or not, it wouldn’t have mattered; we click.”

Brian then lowered to me and kissed me, deep and hot. He licked at my teeth and nibbled my lower lip. He delved his tongue into my mouth and caressed mine with his. We kissed so long and so hard; we were almost suffocating each other. He pulled back and looked at me.

“I love you, and I am also in love with you.” Brian then leaned down and kissed my chin. “One of us has too many clothes on.”

I was still dressed but he was only in his underwear. He pulled my shirt off me and unsnapped my jeans and pulled them and my socks off. We were both in white jockey briefs. He spent a long time looking at me, head to toe. He then reached out his hand and placed it over my erection. I was so hard and his touch made me twitch and shudder. He then moved his hand back and forth over my shaft and sped up when I moaned. While he moved his hand he rubbed his own underwear-clad erection against my thigh while kissing my neck. I wanted him to slow down, to make it last, all too soon I was at the point of no return. I cried out and came against his thrusting palm. Brian bit down on my neck as I convulsed five, six, seven times in my underwear against his palm. Brian pulled up from my neck to look at me.

I was embarrassed that I had cum so quickly. Ten strokes of his hand and I shot off. I turned my head away. But he cupped my chin and pulled me back. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t want it to be over so soon.”

“That was just round one.”

That mollified me for a bit, but I still felt bad. “I didn’t want it to be so one-sided.”

He laughed and took my hand and carried it to his crotch. The front panel of his briefs were sopping with his cum. He had cum while I had.

“I have never cum so hard or so quickly before in my life. It was great,” Brian told me before he kissed me again. He then reached down and pulled off my briefs and then lost his. He covered me with his body and his hard cock rested against mine. The leftovers of our cum lubed us as he thrust against me, wrapping his arms tight around me, holding me to him. “You make me so hard Simon. So, so hard.” He kissed my neck, my earlobe, my chin, over and over. My head started to spin. He moaned and groaned against my neck.

I knew I was close to cumming again and wanted to warn Brian, but he was lost to the sensations. He thrust harder and faster, grinding his hips into mine and his cock into the soft fur of my belly. He cried out my name as I felt his hips spasm against me and warm fluid jetted between us, up my chest and covered my belly. When the convulsions stopped, he collapsed completely on me, all 275 pounds of him. It would have been welcome and wonderful, but I was past the point of calming down. I was so turned on but I couldn’t move against Brian, he had me so firmly imbedded against him I couldn’t reach my cock. I was frantic to cum. I was too aroused to just lay back but not close enough to trip over the edge. I humped against Brian and whimpered. I was desperate. After a few seconds and pitiful whimpers, Brian leaned up and smiled. I was so on edge, writhing beneath him. I had never been to that spot and been forced to stop: I needed to cum.

“Sorry sweetheart.” And Brian started kissing my neck again, sliding his tongue in the hollow of my throat, coursing down to my chest. He licked my nipple and tugged on it gently with his teeth. He licked up his own come as he moved down to my belly button. He swirled his tongue around it then went dipping in as if he could tongue fuck me. He then drifted lower, pulling my erection to his lips, he swirled his tongue around the head, cleaning off my first and diving on my rod for the second. He used his tongue against the sensitive underside and crown while bobbing up and down. A minute or so later I exploded against his tongue, where he proceeded to milk me until my spasms calmed. I lay there spent and vacant while Brian moved up to kiss me again, sharing my ejaculation with me.

“You taste good.” I laughed against his neck. We couldn’t keep our hands still, we stroked and rubbed and delved all over each other’s body. His chest hair was so soft and his skin so warm. We kissed and nuzzled each other for quite some time when I noticed he was hard against my belly again. I looked down and saw we were both standing at attention and laughed.

Brian then leaned against me and whispered in my ear, “Will you fuck me?”

I looked up at him, and had to tell him. “Brian, I’ve never been with anyone before. What I did with Jason doesn’t count. I could never relax enough to get close to anyone. I know what to do, but don’t know how to be gentle or finesse a response from you. My very inexperience could cause me to hurt you. I don’t want that.”

“Simon, if all you ever want to do is what we have done is fine with me. I love you and don’t want to cause you any problems. I know you are a virgin and I want you and I want you to make love to me. I’ve never been fucked and you’ve never fucked. I think we should both be new to this.”

I nodded and kissed him on the chin. He rolled over onto his stomach and spread his legs. I caressed his back and massaged his shoulders. Where my hands trailed, my lips and tongue followed. I stroked his warm, smooth skin following his spine down to his buns. I stroked them and kissed them before licking up one globe and down the other. He tasted like sweat and man and I was lost. I stroked his crack with my fingers, brushing over his rosebud over and over again. Brian started to moan against the bed. My tongue replaced my fingers. He twitched and groaned against the pillow.

As I licked him, he started to open. I licked the opening and delved inside. I sucked on the surrounding skin and bit gently on the outside. He moaned and started to beg. I got on my knees between his thighs and placed the head of my cock to his hole and gently pushed. His sphincter parted instantly and let me slide in. Brian gasped and tensed up a little. I was prepared to pull out when he relaxed suddenly and told me to make love to him.

I lay out fully on his back, my legs entwined with his. I started to stroke slowly inside him, back and forth. Short strokes led way to long ones that almost had me pulling out of him. He was so tight and so warm. He started to squeeze me with his internal muscles. We started to sweat and move in a better rhythm. Oh God, he felt so good. He bucked against me, moved with me. His cries were feral, almost reverential; my own moans matched his. Even though we had both cum twice already, I was ready again almost instantly.

I slowed down, trying to draw out the heady sensations. I would pull almost out and his tight muscles pulled me back. I started to feel my orgasm approach and I knew it would be over soon. I thrust into him deeply, once, twice, and then I came. It didn’t want to stop: my cock convulsed over and over again as I jetted cum into his waiting hole. I thrust into him one last time, spent, when I felt him convulse, his sphincter clamping down as he found his own release. He moaned with each spasm as he spurted onto the sheets.

I kissed his shoulder and rubbed his arms. I started to nuzzle the back of his neck and I moved to pull out of him. He reached behind and grabbed my hips, asking me to stay. I settled back onto him and just wrapped my arms around him. I heard him clear his throat.

“That explains a lot.”

“What?”

“Sex before had been, not uncomfortable, but almost a chore to finish. I never came more than once a night. Here I am, having cum 3 times and wanting to again. I never shot off so quick before either. It was always difficult with my wife to get off. She would cum three or four times before I would. I often wondered if I was good, slow, or just plain bad. But the slightest thing distracted me and I would have to build up again. With you, just touching you and I’m ready to blast off.”

I kissed his back again and slid out of him and lay on my back. “Your turn.”

Brian looked at me and started kissing me, working his body down mine; he was so hard against my leg. Feeling him want me made me hard again too. He slid down and tongued my cock and rubbed and stroked my thighs. He lifted me up and moved his tongue down to my balls and laved them with his tongue, moving down to my crack. He tongued me. I almost shot off the bed. It felt so good; his tongue was warm and wet, moving in slow circles around my hole.

He stuck his middle finger against my pucker and pushed slightly. He slipped it in to the knuckle and moved it in and out. I jumped again and almost purred it felt so good. He continued to stroke me with his fingers, glancing against my prostate. I was in heaven. When he lowered me to his cock, I was beyond pain and beyond caring. He slid into me slowly and surely, stroking slightly until I completely relaxed. Then he started moving against me, faster and faster. Each time he thrust into me, he hit my prostate. I may have been a virgin when the day started, but I knew what an orgasm was, and had caused myself to have quite a few. This was different. It built up from my center and moved out to my fingers and toes, then came crashing back to the center again. I must have shot cum all over Brian’s chest, face, and stomach. I was lost to the sensations and only slightly aware of my ass clamping on him with each spasm. As my orgasm subsided to just a trickle, Brian moaned out and shuddered into me. He collapsed on me and we kissed, slowly; soul-searching kisses that lasted forever. I was so happy.

Later, Brian and I walked to the tub and soaked for a while, giving our newly opened bodies a chance to soak. We made love in the tub as well, sloshing water on the floor. We didn’t care. We spent the whole weekend in bed together. We only got up to swim in the pool and feed ourselves when our energy was running low.

We’ve been together now for about six years. He once told me that I could have all of my scars removed if I wanted but one. He asked me to keep my tracheotomy scar because it had saved my life. Each night as we go to sleep, he kisses it lovingly before wrapping me in his arms and holding me through the night.

Any comments let me know: mercutio3000@attbi.com