Gay Erotic Stories

It was just a one room apartment with a kitchenette. But, oh, how different it looked with a fresh coat of paint, new carpeting, and some furniture. I was so proud of it I invited the landlord and other tenants in for a peek. The landlord's eighteen-year-old son helped me position my TV at the end of my bed, set up my VCR, and then the place not only began to look like a real home but sound like one. He came back later with a video he rented and stayed well after I had given up and fallen asleep. He woke me up shaking the bed. He was seated on the end of the bed, his underpants and jeans around his ankles, watching one of my gay pornos and jerking off. He jumped about a foot off the floor when I moved, grabbed up his underwear and jeans, and then took off for the door. There he turned around and saw me with my pants down. "It's okay," I said, and he came back slowly staring at my dick. On the TV, two guys were fucking now. That was all he needed to see to resume jerking off. "C'mere," I said, dropping to my knees and took his dick into my mouth. In a second, he was ready to come and his eyes got to be big as new moons when I wouldn't let him pull away. He came and he came and he came, cried out his disbelief, stumbled, and fell back across the bed. I was on him then, stripping off his jeans and underwear, then his shoes and socks. "Do you think your mom would suspect anything if you telephoned her and said you're staying here?" "She's already asleep." "Great," I said and lifted off his T-shirt. While I undressed, he moved up and under a sheet. The TV and the overhead light were turned off, then he was in my arms. His courage grew as time passed and then he wasn't at all shy anymore about asking for anything. He turned me over onto my stomach, got between my legs, THEN told me he was going to fuck me. He didn't ask if he could, he told me he was going to. All I could think of was what I could have done at eighteen with that kind of courage. The difference in our ages didn't bother me until I got back to a previous lover on the telephone. Not that I felt old at twenty-seven, but I remembered Harry as pretty laid back in his lovemaking. There was nothing laid-back about this neighbor boy. "What would you say if I told you there was an eighteen-year-old boy waiting for me at my apartment door?" I asked Harry. "Yeah, sure," he replied, but didn't laugh. "There is? An eighteen-year-old kid? And you're getting it on with him every night?" "Well, last night." "Why you lucky sonofabitch!" I felt that way, too, when I got home and found him waiting at my door. Inside, he took me into his arms and made me kiss him. It was our first really passionate kiss. "Hurry," he said, and stepped into my bathroom and turned on the shower. He was in the shower when I got back to him. "C'mon, I need you to wash my back." I did everything but wash his back. And we never reached the bed, he fucked me bent over the sink. "You lucky so and so," I told my reflection in the mirror. But I was about done in after that. I didn't think I'd make it to the bed." When he straddled me, I begged off. "Whoa, whoa, give your trusty steed a second to relax. You've got too much energy for me." He laughed. "That's what the other guy says." "Wha-what other guy?" "The guy I fuck with everyday while you're at work. He says I'm too much for him, too." "You're with two guys everyday?" "It keeps me out of trouble."