Gay for XXX

I could tell that he wanted me. He was sending the signals –shifting his package in his tight black jeans and staring at me. So of course, I followed him shortly after he went into the men’s bathroom. He had gotten my cock bone hard and I meant to alleviate the problem.

When I entered the bathroom, I found him leaning against the far wall waiting for me. His shoulder length hair –streaked with blue hung rakishly over his left eye. He was about five six and slender. His skin was smooth, golden, and unblemished.
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I jerked off twice so my sex drive would be diminished and I wouldn’t have to worry about making an ass of myself when I met with Ashley. But I needn’t have worried. Ashley Moore was already wearing a Bikini swim-suit when he dropped his Levis. I had expected to finally get a look at his cock. So, needless to say, I was devastatingly disappointed. We’d gotten together in the athletics department’s cafeteria to plan the photographs he wanted me to shoot. Then we went to the pool’s dressing room, where I was certain I’d get to see the rest of his naked body. It shocked me to think that, that might’ve been why he had his swim suit under his pants; however, I couldn’t imagine how that could’ve been, since I had done nothing to give him the slightest clue that I drooled to munch his butt.
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I was still at high school, when I realised that I was not like the other boys.

Whilst they were out chasing women, I used to spend most of my free time studying.

At first this seemed to attract a bit of attention but gradually it seemed to become the accepted thing.

It was a Saturday morning, and I was as usual, visiting the local art museum.

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Thank you for your wonderful response to my first two stories. “Looking for Mr. Wells” and “My Cross Country Adventure”. This story finds me getting involved in another unusual relationship, this time with an older gentlemen.

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Chapter 1. Locker room flirting.

It was all I could do to keep from getting aroused in an obvious way. I was already plenty excited as the man watched me towel off in the locker room, and I fought to keep from having what would have been a very embarrassing erection in plain view of one and all.
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David LaValle was the type of guy that everyone gravitated to. Handsome, out going, talented, confident, sexy. Not macho sexy, just good looking soft-spoken, mysterious sexy. Our sophomore year at college in Vancouver we ended up in art class together. For all his magnetism he gravitated to me. He was a wiz at art & drawing; I struggled. He could whip out drawing after effortless drawing while my efforts were slow, plodding & amateur.

Regardless, he befriended me and do not make my feel bad about my artistic shortcomings. Many people thought we were brothers; about the same 5′9″ slim, boyish build with similar sandy blonde hair & smooth skin.
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I am Seu (Don or Sir) Antonio Chaves Barcellos. I am happily married to my beautiful wife of twenty-two years, Dona Silvia Chaves Barcellos. We live on the grandest fazenda (hacienda) in the whole district of Serra Mansa in a remote part of the country of Brazil. Being Brazilians, our natural language is a dialect of Portuguese, and though I am struggling to tell you this story in a language other than my own, I will from time to time feel it necessary to revert to my mother tongue, and I will try to give you translations in English or Spanish of whatever terms that I use.
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Ever since I saw my first Monday Night Football game when I was ten years old, I have been an obsessed football fan. And during football season, my Sunday afternoons are spent at the local sports bar – cheering and screaming with everyone else.

This is certainly a typical Sunday afternoon for most heterosexual American men, and in many ways I am a typical guy – I love football and cars and beer and boobies. But unlike most of my fellow football fans, I have a few interests that aren’t quite the norm. I’m politically very progressive. I appreciate literature and poetry. And I absolutely love to suck cock.
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Checking my E mail yesterday I found a message from a Literotica reader, StyxVenom, asking me if I was for real. He said he enjoyed my stories but doubted them based on the difference between being dominated and enjoying cock.

“I am in Anaheim tonight, staying at the Disney Hotel. If you’re real, get back with me and I’ll see if you’re as good as you say you are. I am married, hate faggots but enjoy blow jobs.”

I had never been contacted by another reader like this before, but thought what the heck, I’ll reply. If it’s anything like AOL users, the guy will be a flake anyway. I sent a reply and went back to work.
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I’m they type of guy that likes to collect porn. Lately, I have been concentrating on finding some of the old classics on DVD for my collection, such as Deepthroat, Debbie Does Dallas, Alice in Wonderland, and the like. Little did I know, that I was going to experience things I had never thought possible.

I was out one Friday night, looking to add some DVDs to my collection. I had managed to find one that I was looking for, when I arrived at my last stop for the evening. It was a plain brick building, with a parking lot in back, and a sign out front. I went in, and started browsing though the DVD racks for the items I was looking for. I went up to the counter, and asked if they had any older DVDs, and they did happen to have one of the DVDs I was looking for, so I purchased it. As I was waiting for him to find the DVD and finish the purchase, I had time to look around at my surroundings. This store had an Adult theater, which is self explanatory, but it also had an ‘arcade’ in the back. I’ve never seen an adult arcade before, so I wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but my curiosity was peaked, so after completing my sale, I wandered back to the arcade.
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We made love again an hour ago, and he held me so, and afterwards, he wept onto my left shoulder. The night was gingham bright in mid July. And I loved him more than words could tell time to slow down and re-capture him and me and all we had been through. I touched his penis becoming flaccid and he sighed against me and I pretended he cared. I touched his chest and found the sweat there and found his heart still beating rabbit fast. I loved being with him in bed, but he loved being in bed with someone else. Someone he had never had before and who had left him and the whole guilt of it was with Robert and I was nothing but pretend, while real, but pretend for the one who had left down the midnight streets.
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