Gay Erotic Stories

I had been in love with Tristain for 2 years, ever since I walked into the new school, feeling more lonely than I ever had, only to be greeted with his warm smile and sparkling eyes. From that day on I tried to see him every day. He was one of the most beautiful guys I had ever seen in my life. His hair was blonde and usually gelled into a semi-punk style. It would have looked stupid on anyone else but it suited his boyishly cute features perfectly. He was slightly taller than me at about 6'3, his body a well-defined mass of tanned skin and muscle. 18 months of staring lustfully at his crotch in the changerooms made me guess his dick would have been 9 inches when hard. After a while we began to lose touch of each other, I was far too nervous to talk to him, and he didn't know me all that well. We had talked now and then, but I was bursting to tell him my wildest desires, to let him know how strongly I felt about him. Eventually I got my chance. He had just broken up with his girlfriend (I used to hate them, he seemed so far out of my reach, when he was 'attached'), and intended to drown his spirits at a friend's party. I went along because another friend of mine was invited. It had taken days of preparation to rig this. It was only chance and good luck that they parted days before this. I felt a small pang of guilt driving towards the house on the outskirts of Perth. After all, Tristain's 18 year-old hadn't even had a chance to hell. Was I taking advantage of him? But my burning love forced me to continue on to the party. When I got there, the first thing I saw was Tristain, leaning against the doorframe with a beer in one hand and a bottle of scotch in the other. "I hope you're not planning on finishing off both of those." I announced, powering up the path towards him. I was a few meters away and I could already smell his scent. My head became dizzy as I realised that I may be a few hours off what I have been waiting for forever. "S'a free country." Tristain managed to slur, grinning cheekily. He sighed and collapsed onto the couch. We talked for a couple of hours about life. I couldn't take my eyes off his chest and carved stomach, pressing against the tight white T-shirt he had on underneath his jacket. I edged closer and closer on the couch. "I don't feel so well. Maybe I shoulda taken your advice on the scotch." he slurred, sliding forward on the couch. "I better get you somewhere to sleep this off!" I said, helping him to his feet and walking him down the path towards my step-father's Landcruiser, the back seats already folded over and sleeping bag laid out. He collapsed on the makeshift bed, and I pulled the sleeping bag over him. It was then I noticed the tear leaking out of his clear brown eye, shining in the half-light of a warm Australian dusk. I turned to leave but his powerful arm reached out and grabbed me by the waist. "Don't go." "What?" "I want you to stay here. Please." He was crying now, the tears flowing from his eyes. I sat down and, my heart racing, gently stroked his jaw line. I slid down onto the makeshift bed and gently placed a hand on his leg. "Chris, I've had these - feelings about you lately. I'm sorry, but I feel so ashamed." I continued to run my fingers down his face and neck. "The feelings are mutual Tristain. I just don't know if you're ready yet." The next thing I knew, this gorgeous guy had rolled onto me and was pushing his lips hard against mine. I moaned and opened my mouth, our tongues meeting. He tasted as good as he smelled, I was getting more and more absorbed in the release of passion I never thought would, could, happen. I suddenly became aware of everyone passing around the car. It was amazing no one was looking in. "Let's go somewhere else, this place is too crowded." Tristain muttered something and slid onto the passenger seat next to me. We got back to my apartment (I had moved out of my mother's house a few months before graduating) and I showed him where the shower was. I grabbed drink and sat on the bed, rubbing my 8" tool and bursting with anticipation. Tristain appeared at the doorway, naked and damp, his silhouette casting a shadow over my body and half the bed. For the first time tonight, I was truly scared. His face was sullen and I knew that he had sobered enough to control his emotions (among other things). I became a little more relieved as he coolly walked over and sat on the bed next to me. "What's wrong?" I cautiously asked. His eyes scanned my face, the floor, the ceiling, anything but my crotch. "Why didn't you ever talk to me about the way you felt?" His question threw me off-guard. It took me a few moments to formulate an answer. "I was so afraid of being rejected, of losing a friend as special as you. I paused, then dropped the bombshell. "I love you, Tristain." That was about all he could take. He grabbed me a powered me down onto the bed, his hot tongue running down my neck. Every muscle in his body seemed to flex as he grabbed my crotch, and, for the first time ever, stared longingly at it as I tore off my shirt to reveal my lean, firm pecs and washboard stomach. He managed to get my jeans off with one hand, while running his other through my long blond hair and kissing me deeply. His 8" meat was rock hard and oozing precome. I slid down and took it in my mouth. Fireworks went off inside my head, my senses overwhelmed with the intimate bond I had tied with the love of my life. Then, to my absolute shock, he began to mimic my actions. This gorgeous, hunky 18-year -old was going down on me! All I could do was lay back and groan while he began to thrust gently down my throat. This moment seemed to last forever, but I sensed my body shivering and my calves and quads flexing. "Tristain, I think I'm gonna come." Tristain slid back off and began to lick my balls, while I wrapped my lips back around his cock. The orgasm itself was only a few seconds, but Tristain made the most of them. As torrents of my seed hit his chest he tentatively tasted some. The taste seemed to turn him off, which disappointed me, but it didn't stop him from massaging my cock and balls as I collapsed beside him. I was tired, but my heart and mind demanded one more thing of this blond god. "Tristain, will you fuck me?" For a few moments, he seemed not to register. But, slowly, he slipped around and gripped my shoulders tightly. His heavy breathing was enough to set the fire within my loins roaring once more, and I quivered with ecstasy as I felt his huge, thick, uncut dick push against my hole. In one fluid motion he entered me and began to thrust slowly, rubbing me from the inside out. He was touching me in a non-physical way as well.. touching a part of my soul I never knew existed, a part which was now filled and complete. His fucking became faster and deeper, as I felt his cock tighten. His balls slapped against me as he fucked me like an animal. He was loving it and I was no different. But, the best moments in life never last as long as you want them to. His cock swelled, he let out a half-groan, half-howl and began to dump his load into me. I was in heaven. This was better than love. This was life. He kept his meat in me as he held me in his powerful arms on that warm, fresh Saturday evening. Body and soul we were connected, our spirits in perfect harmony. I woke up in his arms the next morning. As I stroked his hair, his dark, crystal-clear eyes flickered open, and the message in them was plain and clear. We were in love, and nothing could ever change that. Written by Lone Wolf in 1998 (wulfy82@yahoo.com)