Gay Erotic Stories

Out From Under High school was a nightmare. Classmates seized on anything they thought might torment somebody. Friends who turned on me to make themselves look good were the hardest to understand. "It's your feminine ways," said one who practically grew up with me, and then he began calling me names---"faggot!" "queer!" I didn't know how to deal with any of this on my own. Drinking stilled the pain, but dropping out of school seemed a better way to survive. But if I did that, my parents would ask questions I'd be afraid to answer! I needed advice from other gays. Finding them wasn't difficult, but getting them to open up was like pulling teeth. Another seventeen-year-old and I made a pact to say only nice things about each other, offer encouragement, and look out for each other's well-being. The more time we spent yakking on the telephone, the easier it became to talk about spending a night together. I had only an image of us together in bed pieced together out of fantasies, but it was enough to turn me on. He had enough sexual experience to know which buttons to push and he pushed them. What I brought was a need for validation and I found it. In his eyes. The way he looked at me after every kiss. With every kiss I became further immersed in pleasure. I was panting and puffing, alive and on fire from his kisses, his touch, and his reactions. He entered me to bring us closer still. My vision was so clouded over with passion I couldn't be sure whether he was real or fantasy anymore. All thoughts turned inward then and I concentrated on his thrusts. Afterwards, it took a while for his heartbeat to slow and then we were back to kissing. All the validation I came for was there in his kisses. Grateful kisses, they were now. Like I had just done him the greatest favor. I thought it was the other way around, that he had done me the greatest favor.