Gay Erotic Stories

The guy was gay and completely honest about it. That's what attracted me to him. He found it easy to admit he was gay, talk about his passion for younger guys like me, and even say how he'd please me in bed if he ever got me there. I had never heard that from a man before. He must want me awfully bad, I thought. We were neighbors on Fire Island. He was a writer with a number of published novels to his credit while I was a struggling want-to-be in my first year of college. We shared a beer one night out on his front porch. I was uncertain as to how long I could stay on the island because I had no job, I told him. I was living on my savings and whatever money my dad sent. "You need a hug," he said, and put aside the bottle of beer and took me into his arms. I needed a hug once I discovered how wonderful it felt being in his strong arms. He was in his early 40s and strong as an ox. "Stay here with me tonight?" he whispered. On his bed, trembling from head to toe, I focused on the feel of his right hand around my erection. I closed my eyes and he made love to my erection. "Noo, not yet," he whispered when I was close to coming. "I have to have you first." Peeing my gaze off him, I turned over quickly and spread my legs. He opened a small jar of vaseline. Smelling it had me trembling again. "No, you have to relax or I won't be able to get in," he said. "Let me in, please." He got in and began to thrust, grinding, moaning, building up to a powerful rhythm. He drew me up on my knees and asked me to meet his thrusts. His voice became louder as his erection became more insistant. "Baby, I'm almost there!" I went back down flat upon the bed and he rested a bit before he dismounted. In his arms, he kissed me and then looked around at his half-clean bedroom. "You know," he said, "you could live here with me and not have to worry about money or sex." I moved in with him the next morning.