Gay Erotic Stories

“Ken,” I greeted as soon as the door was open. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ken looked at me through grim hazel eyes before answering, “Just needed some company. Mind if I come in?”

I bit my lip as I wondered what to do. Ken was a good friend, but he was also as straight as the proverbial arrow. The more I was embracing my homosexuality, the harder it was for me to be around Ken. These late night calls often ended up leaving me rejected and confused. Maybe tonight would be different, though.

“Yeah, come on in,” I relented.

Ken threw me a crooked smile as he sauntered into my humble apartment. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” “No,” I replied truthfully, “but I was on my way.”

Ken nodded. “Sounds good,” he said in his usual gruff voice. “I’m pretty beat.”

And so the game started. I looked at Ken uncertainly as I said, “I’ll get a blanket and you can have the couch.”

Ken looked disappointed. “We can’t talk then?”

I sighed and looked into my bedroom. I could just see the corner of my queen-sized bed, already turned down and just waiting. “You want to sleep in my room?”

Ken’s eyes narrowed, as if he were in thought. “Yeah, sure.”

I spoke not another word before I turned to head back into my room. Ken followed just as quietly. “Do you need any shorts or anything to sleep in?”

“Nah,” Ken replied. “I’ll just sleep in my clothes.”

I turned and gave Ken an awkward smirk as I said, “That sounds uncomfortable.”

Ken shrugged. “You do what you have to.”

I turned on my bedside lamp before turning off the main bedroom light and sliding into bed. I watched Ken as he kicked off his sneakers and fell back onto the bed beside me. We both lay there for a moment, just staring up at the dim light cast on the ceiling. Ken and I had shared a bed many times before, but it was still awkward at times. Though Ken accepted my sexuality, he didn’t talk about it and he preferred it that way. “I had my date with Jenny tonight,” Ken started, finally breaking the silence.

“Oh yeah,” I said, remembering. “How’d it go?”

I could feel Ken shrug. “She got pissed when I asked if I could spend the night,” he replied. “I guess she didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“Well, it was your first date,” I commented. That was perhaps Ken’s biggest flaw – he was a borderline sex addict. He was always landing in bed with some girl he’d met at the bars. I tried talking to him about it, but he wouldn’t listen. “You wouldn’t be trying to talk to me if it were guys I was bagging every night,” was his standard response.

“Who gives a shit?” Ken answered with a bit of an edge in his voice. “We’re living in the new millennium, Greg. We’re in the age of ‘if it feels good, do it’!” “Not everybody wants to have sex all the time,” I shot back. “It’s not safe to go bed-hopping these days.”

“You wouldn’t be complaining if I were screwing guys,” Ken said sulkily.

“Oh god,” I grumbled. “Just forget it.”

We fell into a moment of silence, both of us pouting but neither of us wanting to admit it. I thought Ken must have fallen asleep when I heard a muffled, yet distinct, sound. It was the sound of a zipper being undone. Oh God, not tonight, I thought silently to myself. I could hear the rustling as Ken fumbled with something beside me, but I dared not look. He sat quietly for a moment and I was tempted to think he had given up when I felt his hand on my arm.

“No,” I whispered, turning to look at him.

Ken looked back at me with pleading eyes. “Please?”

“I can’t,” I said, my heart starting to feel torn. “Not again.”

“I know I can trust you, Greg,” Ken said in the sweetest voice he could muster. “I wouldn’t ask you again if we weren’t such good friends.”

I looked at his beautiful baby-face and thought of all the reasons why I shouldn’t, but they all disappeared when I looked into those eyes. I’d do anything for eyes that looked into mine like that. I tried so hard to be firm and resolute, but I still didn’t put up a fight as he moved my hand until it rested on his exposed cock. My fingers wrapped around the naked flesh instantly. Ken smiled his “gotcha” smile at me before his eyes closed and he settled back down.

I hated it when Ken took advantage of me like this, but I was powerless to stand up to him. He knew I loved him and wanted more from him than he could give, and he used it to his advantage. He just wanted his rocks off, and I longed to be close to him. He let out a small whimper of pleasure as I started my occasional duty.

I allowed myself the enjoyment of watching as my hand danced up and down his hardened shaft. It jutted perfectly from a mass of sandy blonde curls the same hue as his tousled hair. It stood at a thick, rigid eight inches, crowned with a swollen crimson head that was already leaking precum. God, I loved his cock. I looked up at Ken’s face, watching his lips move in a silent gasp of smiling ecstasy. I wanted to kiss those lips so bad, but I knew I couldn’t. He was lost in a fantasy of some girl; maybe Jenny, and I couldn’t interfere further than the methodical movement of my hand. So I savored the feel of his warm flesh in my hand as I doted on him yet again . “Oh god, baby,” Ken said after a moment. “I’m going to come soon.”

I started beating him off harder now, tightening my grip slowly as I increased the speed of my hand flying over his cock. I loved watching him come. He usually didn’t shoot very far, but I loved to watch his cream ooze over my hand, down my fingers. I pumped harder as he started to twitch and writhe on the bed, his breath coming in shallow gasps and groans now. I knew it wouldn’t be long when he grabbed my headboard and bit his lower lip. I just about died watching that look on his face again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said suddenly. “Oh, god, oh shit, oh . . . oh . . . oh . . . UUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!”

I watched as the first spurt of his milky jism shot up in the air a bit before landing on my wrist in a sticky glob. After that, the rest of his spunk dribbled out slow and thick over my fingers. I watched Ken’s cock as his nuts emptied themselves of their contents on my hand. Ken continued to grunt and moan as the throes of his orgasm overtook him. I milked him dry with my expert hand and savored every second now as I began to feel him going limp. I knew it wouldn’t be long now.

Sure enough, Ken was still semi-hard when he batted my hand away from his crotch and said impatiently, “All right, that’s enough.” I knew my cue well and withdrew my hand immediately. The fantasy had ended for Ken, and he was too painfully aware that his cock was in a guy’s hand instead of a girl’s pussy. Though he was first and foremost a sex-hungry fiend, he was also very much a straight guy. He pulled his pants up immediately as I dove off my bed, heading for my bathroom. Ken had his fantasy, and now it was time for mine.

Once in the bathroom, I locked the door and hiked down my shorts to expose my own throbbing member. I closed my eyes as I grabbed it; using Ken’s cum as lube as I started to jerk off. I closed my eyes, though, and imagined it was Ken’s hand pleasuring my fuck stick and not my own. I had played this fantasy over and over, where Ken finally decided to return the favor I had showed him and give me a hand job as well. I could picture his perfect face, smiling down into mine as he serviced me. It didn’t take me long before I could feel the familiar gurgling deep inside my loins. As always, just before I shot my own load, I could hear Ken’s voice in my head saying, “I love you, Greg.” With that, I would explode.

Just as Ken’s orgasm would rocket him back into the reality that he was not with a girl, so did mine rocket me back into the reality that I was not with Ken. I always felt the same stab as I looked at my spent cock in my own hand and my cum splattered on the tile floor. I allowed myself a few moments to cry at my loneliness, to sob over the fact that I loved a man who would never return my love. When it was out of my system, I washed my hands, cleaned up the bathroom floor, and walked back out to my bedroom.

Ken was already asleep when I climbed back into bed. I turned off the bedside lamp before I whispered, “Good night, Ken. I love you.”

Ken woke up before I did the next morning. As I stumbled into the kitchen, I found him pouring himself a bowl of cereal and drowning it with about half of the remaining milk. He made no mention of the night before and acted as if it had never happened. I couldn’t do the same, and I made no effort to hide the pain festering once again in my heart.

Ken left right after breakfast. He thanked me for letting him spend the night as he pulled his sneakers back on. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him why he didn’t thank me for getting him off again, but I just nodded instead. I would not smile for him, though, and he knew it. He looked at me glumly as he stood in the doorway to leave.

“Listen, Greg,” he began in a hushed, uncomfortable voice. “Some people are just straight, and that’s all they’ll ever be. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

“I know,” I mumbled numbly, though I wanted to scream at him to leave me alone if he was as straight as he claimed to be. I bit my tongue like I always did.

Ken looked as if he wanted to say more, but I interrupted him. “Goodbye, Ken,” I said, my voice swimming in pain.

Ken started to smile until he saw the look in my eyes. He knew what I was saying. Again, he looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. “Goodbye, Greg.” With that, he turned and left.

I let a single tear fall down my cheek as I walked over to the door and locked it. I allowed myself one brief moment of grief and pity before I wiped the tear away. I knew it was the last tear I would ever shed because of Ken . . .and it was.