Gay Erotic Stories

I sat down cross-legged facing Jeff under the live oak on the lawn at Stanford's Red Barn, in a fairly obscure corner of the campus. Because it was well into June, the campus was significantly under populated, and from this remote location we could not see anyone else. Maybe nobody else would walk by for another hour or so, who knew?

"Well, Hoss, it was this way," Jeff began, somewhat languidly. First off, you have to understand that it wasn't a matter of lust. Back when we were new freshmen, neither your uncle nor I had had any significant sexual contact with guys whatsoever. He's told me his entire sexual history up until we met, and I'm sure he was telling the whole truth. He began dating girls seriously when he was 13, and by the time he was 14 he was fucking pretty regularly. He was a major stud in his junior high school and later high school, and he more or less went through about 2 to 3 different girls per year. But, Mikey, you probably remember all this yourself."

"Yeah, Jeff," I said. "I knew he always had one great-looking babe after another. I'm sure I knew all his regulars, one after the other. From time to time he'd do stuff like take me along with him and his girl to go get ice cream or a hamburger or even to a football game or something. If they minded, they never seemed to let me know. When he was 16, say, I was 10, but I always knew how to act around his dates, and knew how to keep my mouth shut and stay out of the way. I just loved being with him, any time, any place, and he obviously didn't mind my tagging along or he wouldn't have asked me again and again."

"But, Jeff," I said, "Look, I've known you, at least a little, for four or five years, and I've been hearing about you, for almost six. But to tell the truth, I don't know all that much about “your” personal history. Why don't you fill me in a little bit?"

"Okay, Son," he says, "but don't blame me if you fall asleep, 'cause it's not all that interesting a story. But here goes."

With that he kinda surprised me by swiveling a little, scooting over, and laying back, putting his head in my lap, and he grew quite relaxed, and thoughtful. He was so beautiful. With his chiseled features, his large dark eyes, his firm chin. As I looked down at him, I could not keep my hands off him, and it gave me a remarkable satisfaction to stroke his face idly with the fingers of my right hand, tracing a line slowly down his noble aquiline nose, slowly, and then gently across his lips, and onto his cheek, rough with a thick dark stubble. And just as soon as I first touched him, he smiled up at me, and his face became quite radiant.

The beautiful man began reflectively:

"When I was 6, and my little sisters were 3 and 1, my parents divorced. My dad remarried and lived about half a mile from where I lived with my mom and sisters. He's a nice guy, and I have always had a very good relationship with him, and also with my step mom and little half brother. But it was my mom who raised us. She worked long hours as the chief assistant to the county clerk, and she engaged as her housekeeper Carmen Lopez, who was really like a second mom to us. We all love Carmen to death. We lived in a small house on a nice street, but most of the guys in the neighborhood my age lived on the little street that backed up on our street, and they were all Chicanos. So I grew up speaking Spanish easily? at least with a strong Chicano accent and vocabulary. Even today, you don't watch me, when I'm speaking Spanish, I'll say "la marqueta" instead of "el mercado."

Now with my fingertips I was tracing his eyebrows, so dark, and so beautifully shaped. They lent his face such a remarkable animation, whether he was speaking, or merely reacting to his interlocutor's remarks; and so magnetic was his face that he could -- I know it! -- communicate with, and significantly influence, both strangers and intimates by the subtlest inclinations of his features. Now, however, he was in repose as he continued his story.

"But anyway, we never had a lot of spare money to throw around in our household. Course it didn't matter in our school. A kid was considered a fuckin' fashion plate if he wore Wranglers instead of the brands they sold at K-Mart and Penney's."

"My elementary school was of no special distinction, but somehow I always seemed to have teachers who took an interest in me, and I have to say that though regular class work didn't involve me much, my teachers always had suggestions of good books to read, and they offered me special challenges. I always scored right high on the standardized tests, and my mom, too, made sure that I had plenty of good things to read."

"I went to the only high school in the county, grades 7-12. It was mostly rather mediocre, but there was in effect a school within the school for the kids who showed some talent, and alongside the classes for kids who had a really rough time getting out of Algebra I, there were advanced classes in math and science, with a couple of really good teachers; and also some advanced sections in English and French with some teachers that really had something on the ball. By the time I was in senior high school, I'd taken a few years of French and I was good at it. Actually it built on my rather casual Spanish, and I found it quite easy. Math was another thing that I found very easy, and I was permitted to take the advanced math the school offered in my sophomore year: it was called 'pre-calculus.'"

As Jeff smiled up to me, his face was so endearing, beguiling, that merely touching him caused a kind of energy to flow into my fingertips, and up into my hand, and then into my forearm, so that the skin warmed, and the hair erected. Even though the golden hair on my forearm was thick and curly, and it stood well off my skin, it was still capable of erection, of shifting orientation slightly under the influence of this powerful stimulation. The thrill continued up my upper arm and into my shoulder, and actually my right nipple came to a state of full erection, and then, too, my left also.

The deep pleasure I received from touching Jeff's face and his hairline and his ear with the fingertips of my right hand literally made it impossible for me to resist placing my left hand onto his body too. I slipped my fingertips just under the hem of his little tee shirt and onto his very hairy, very firm abs. I let my fingertips travel no more than about an inch, back and forth, as they wandered, in a very restricted arc in the dense hair below his navel. And from the very first slightest touch, the energy that flowed into my fingertips of that hand was not the simple warmth and mild excitement that was flowing into my right fingertips; it was more akin to electricity, if of a modest amperage, and again, the energy propagated up my arm--and actually into my soul somehow. Frankly, as soon as Jeff had laid his head into my lap, my cock had fattened up, but now, as I stroked him so very gently, it was almost painfully erect, and I had to run my hand into my shorts to 'adjust' my penis. It now lay just alongside Jeff's beautiful ear, mostly in my shorts, but with the cockhead extending above the little elastic waistband and under my tee shirt. I noticed, too, that Jeff's cock was growing too, causing his little shorts to poke out, but unlike me, he wasn't really rigid, and he continued his narration:

"The other thing that I was really good at was sports. High school football is like a religion in Texas, and I was a very successful wide receiver; but I just loved baseball, and I was lucky to have a really good coach, who saw that I had some potential at shortstop. Our team won the regionals year after year, and we were contenders at State.

"But something that really changed the direction of my life was that I got a shot at being an exchange student for my junior year. I didn't want to miss baseball season, so I got a special deal where I could start at the end of May, and come home at March. Because of my French proficiency I was sent to Biel-Bienne in Switzerland. I lived the first three months with a wonderful Suisse-Romand family, and my French fluency really improved dramatically. Funny thing is, though, that Biel-Bienne is a truly bilingual city, and I began to pick up a little German from my soccer teammates and neighbors. So when the exchange group found that they had overbooked kids for French homes but they had a vacancy with a German speaking family, I volunteered for it. The Schliemann’s were great. There were three kids in the family, and in no time I was jabbering away in German; and all my school classes were in German, so by the time I left, I was pretty handy at German. And I also took a calculus course while I was there.

"My host family had a daughter, Sisi, who was exactly my age, and a stunning blonde beauty, with, no shit, Heidi-like pigtails. Man, was she hot. Pale, pale blue eyes, and a glance from her across the dinner table would just cause me to sizzle. Frankly I ate a lot of my meals with a major hard-on. Now 'dating' a member of a host family was strictly forbidden, but Sisi and I almost inevitably fell for one another. We were very discreet, however, and we tried never to let our feelings give us away. But we managed to sneak away and find places we could be together alone. I don't need to go into all the details, but she was virgo intacta until she met me. She was really hot for me, and all it took was just an opportunity for us to take to fuckin' like crazed weasels. Our intercourse was so, so hot! But we had plenty of great oral sex. God, that was a great time, and she was so talented at oral sex -- kissing, sucking -- and had such a wonderful response to my going down on her -- I've never known another woman who so came so easily and repeatedly. Because of the risk that we were running, sneaking around in parks and attics, and storerooms at school, and so forth, the level of excitement was extremely high. I really loved her, too. Her twat was as blonde as her head, almost silvery, really. And perfumed! Oh, man!"

By now, Jeff's cock had grown as rigid as mine, and he too had to shift a bit, and adjust his shorts so that now his dickhead, like mine, poked above his waistband, and it was now right under my fingertips. In course of the subtle movements of my fingers, all I did was touch it, ever so slightly, ever so gently, ever so intermittently; but his cock grew to be not merely erect, but rock hard. Nevertheless, I did not enlarge my movements, and, almost amazingly, he was able to continue his story:

"But when March rolled around, I had to head home, though it almost killed me to part from Sisi, even though we had had to keep our love a dark, dark secret. Back home, I found that though I had missed a lot of baseball practice, my constant soccer practice and playing in Switzerland had really improved both my stamina and my agility, and my performance on the diamond was far better than it had ever been before. I was on the regional all-star team, and though I was a junior I was elected captain of our team that went to State and almost won our division. It was a really close thing.

"I had already taken calculus in Switzerland, more advanced than any course our school had to offer, but my teacher, Mr. Maiser, volunteered to tutor me, and on an independent study basis we went through differential equations, using an old college textbook of his.

"Maiser and I continued with differential equations and number theory in my senior year, but it was practically the only thing that interested me in school. To tell the truth, Bubba, the rest seemed so absurdly easy, like physics for babies or something, though my English teacher did suggest a number of very interesting books. Our baseball season was truly great, and we went on to win the Texas State Championship in a walk. Stanford was on the lookout for some serious support in the infield and I was overjoyed to get an offer from them. It was the only school I even gave a second look at.

"Anyway," Jeff continued, "when I met Mike, he had had a great deal of sexual experience with women; but essentially none with guys. Oh, the usual stuff, circle-jerks at camp, team hazing, stuff like that, but I don't even think he'd had experience with, say, mutual masturbation with a guy, much less anything more advanced.

"And it was more or less the same for me. My school was much smaller, and I had had far fewer girls than Mike had, but I started dating and fucking about the same age he had, and by the time we met, I'm sure that wasn't a thing he'd done with a girl that I hadn't. I'd gone steady with one girl for a year and a half, and by the time that was over, we'd done just about ever'thing either one of us could imagine. Ah, Betsy. Now that was a girl to remember?..," his voice tailing off.

"In the summer before our sophomore year began--we were both 15--Betsy's folks went out of town for about four days, leaving her home alone. I told my mom I was going to the Lake with some friends, which wasn't quite true. I went with just one friend, Betsy. In those days you could get a permit to drive at 15, and I just told my mom an older friend was driving. Actually, I drove Betsy's mom's car. Anyway, Betsy's family's cabin was only 15 miles away. From Friday at 6 pm until Sunday at 4 pm, I don't think either one of us wore a stitch. We kissed, sucked, stroked, licked, and fucked virtually non-stop, in the way that only randy 15 year olds can. We did it in the lake, in the boat, on the lawn, in the bed, on the beach, in the kitchen, in the shower, on the carpet, on the sofa-- you name it. When we'd first met, Betsy was a right strait-laced East Texas Baptist gal. She'd gone in for some 'heavy petting' as they used to say, with an old boy friend, but that was it. But turned out that once we got together, she proved to be first curious, then willing, and finally exuberantly experimental. There wasn't anything that she wasn't willing to try, at least with me, though that she always demurred at any suggestion that we bring in any friends, or anything of that sort. She was a girl who really, really, loved cock -- or at least my cock. In her mouth, in her cunt, up her rear, in her hands, between her thighs, on her face, you name it. And of course, for me it was a life lesson to discover what real intimacy combined with real freedom and almost no inhibitions really could mean. It's something that many, many people never ever enjoy, never even are able to imagine."

By this point, both Jeff and I were pretty heated up. Jeff took my left hand by my wrist, and very deliberately slipped it into his shorts. I curled my fingers around his cock--as much as I could grasp, anyway, and marveled, yet again at the mysterium tremendum of the phallus: so absolutely rock hard, and yet at the same time so velvety, so warm. Yes, of course it was more or less exactly the same as mine in length and girth -- very close to eight inches, and generously thick in proportion. But even though I did not permit my hand to wander up and down his cock except a little, nevertheless I felt every little incidental detail that made his phallus as unique and special as it was dear to me: the amazing system of veins popping out on the surface that made grasping his cock feel like I was seized of a steel cable; the extremely defined flared edge, or corona, of his cockhead, the slow throb that measured each beat of the heart that was now coming to be so precious to me.

Jeff continued with his story. "So while I hadn't had nearly the variety of relationships that Mike had, in my own way I had gained some very valuable experience, and, tell the truth, there were always girls who wanted to date me. But like Mike, I had never touched another guy's cock. Of course I had had fantasies, some of them very dramatic, when I jerked off, involving good-looking guys I knew, or just strangers, or totally imaginary guys, made up of fragments and dreams. Of course I was ashamed of myself for the times when my imagination took an unexpected turn in that direction, but, hey, not too ashamed, and certainly not worried, not with my track record with women."

"Anyway, when Mike and I first met, it wasn't a matter of lust. First came admiration, then friendship, then affection, and only then, sex. It was like this:

"I arrived on the Stanford campus not knowing anyone other than the coaching staff who had recruited me. I'd met a few guys on the team when I came for a campus visit, but only briefly. I arrived by taxi, having flown in from Beaumont, and I shipped a couple of trunks and a few boxes by UPS."

At this point, Jeff's cell phone rang. Since it was Mike's number, Jeff accepted the call. Mike said that there was to be an extra delivery of champagne, and that the wine vendor required someone to sign for it. Could we go to Alice's townhouse and wait for the delivery, which would be sometime within the next two or three hours? Of course we agreed, though we both regretted that our intensely pleasurable storytelling session under the live oak was necessarily to be broken up.

To be continued.