Gay Erotic Stories

Ever since I was a young boy, I have been interested in the art world. I remember going up to my father (after attending a piano recital by the town's piano teacher) and asking him to send me to her for piano lessons. His answer to that was, "piano lessons are for girls", and so my cousin Ada was sent to learn the piano. It seems to me that every time I asked for anything relating to art, I always received some type of reason why I should not be interested in it. Another time, I told my father that I wanted to take painting classes after school (there was this "Americano", who used to be an art teacher in the United States before Castro took over) that was teaching some of the local boys. My father's reply to that was, "Painters all lead a life of poverty and if they are lucky they will become famous after they die". As an example of this, he gave Michael Angelo, Rafael, and a few others. Being only twelve and living in a communist country, I had no idea of what he was talking about. A month or so later, and still curious about the painting lessons. I decided to walk by the Americano's house on my way home from school and I saw other boys there. They told me that the Americano was teaching them English. Upon hearing this, I ran home to tell my father. When I asked my father if I could take English lessons, he thought about it a minute, and he said that it would be a good thing because we were on a waiting list, since Castro took over, to leave the country and go to Miami. I had been taking English lessons for about a month when one day after arriving at the Americano's house, I noticed that the other boys were not there. Not knowing what had happened, I asked my teacher where they were, and he told me they had left the island to go to Miami on a boat. From that moment on, I was the only pupil he had and he could concentrate all his attention on me. As my visits to the Americano went on daily and being the only student, within 2 weeks he had me conjugating verbs. I had just finished the verb To Love, when he asked me to use it in a sentence. I said that I did not know how and he proceeded to write on a piece of paper, handed it to me and told me to read it. "I love my teacher, Mr Hallman, very much." I read, he looked me in the eyes and told me I deserved a kiss for doing that so well. He proceeded to pull me towards him and kissing me on the lips. Surprised and blushing I found myself pushing him away. He said the in the United States it was natural for a teacher to kiss his students--on the mouth? I asked. He said, yes and I needed to learn many things, after all I was already twelve and I would need to know them before I went to Miami. Hearing this, I asked Mr. Hallman to please teach me all I needed to know. A smile came to his face and he pulled me to him again, this time I felt his tongue enter my mouth and his hand reach for my crotch. He began pulling at my shirt and took it off. His mouth touched my nipples and a gasp escaped me. I reached for his bulge and found it hard and hot, all the space behind his zipper seemed to be filled by his growing cock. Mr. Hallman managed to pull my pants and underwear off in one motion. His mouth made a quick move to encircle my small hard penis as a moan escaped him, which sounded like he was eating the sweetest mango in Habana. I felt my body start to shiver and my knees buckle. Next thing I remember was seeing Mr. Hallman straddling my chest, his cock in his hand looked gigantic and sperm was shooting out of it all over me. Needless to say, I learned many things from Mr. Hallman. He was a very accommodating man and was always happy to teach me. The only thing is, when I finally got to Miami, I did not know much English.