Gay Erotic Stories

At nineteen, I was what was referred to as a strapping young man. I got the looks that defined my lean masculinity but my voice was clearly a soprano and whenever I spoke, people giggled, sneered or jeered at the high octave. My smooth, hairless body and lanky frame didn't help. Instead it made matters worse since my hair was almost orange and stood me out in public. Some even deigned to call me ‘Orange boy' For that reason I became a recluse. An introvert, more to say.

I lived with my foster parents at a small village in Georgia (not US). In the Svaneti, my village, Ushguli, known for its medieval architecture that also featured picturesque mountain settings, traditional houses made of stones, old schools and generally idyllic settings. It used to have a close-knit community, but with modernized development and expansion, it wears more modern looks now.

Tourists used to audibly gasp in awe at our snowcapped Caucasus Mountains that were surrounded by alpine meadows. Our local life was deeply connected to nature and till date we maintained our traditional values and culture. Our village, being one of the highest residential villages in Europe, boasted of high population even though we still maintained our local but unique lifestyles. Our streets remain cobbled and it's still fashionable to ride horses instead of cars. Historical towers, stunning natural landscapes, serene environment and friendly neighborhood all combined to attract nature and cultural tourism.

But I am not here to promote the beauty of my village.

A year before enrolling into the University, I had an encounter that I still relive with nostalgia each time I visit my village. I'm now in my forties, a professor of Geology in a budding university in St. Petersburg, Russia. How time flies with the wings of eagles.

At nineteen, being a reclusive boy in my late teens, I had a very small circle of friends that included cousins and their friends. However, in my class, I had a huge crush on one we'd call Danya Ilyachevich for the sake of this story. He was big, and strong and indeed, like Rasputin, he had a flaming glow in his blue eye. His massive whorl of blond hair, aristocratic nose, golden skin, broad, hairy shoulders and athletic frame made him a dream boat of every girl in our school. I worshipped the ground he walked on. I always seized every opportunity to run errands for him and I was always teased as being his lap dog. I never minded that he barely noticed me and rarely appreciated whenever I did anything for him. He played basketball, football and rugby. He was the perfect jock. He was always the centre of attraction and he had girls eating out of his palms.With his retinue of friends and admirers including my sixteen year old sister, Dasha, I was a mere dot in the crowd, merely to be seen and not to be heard.

That was why I was stunned and wildly excited when he invited me to his birthday party. He told me calmly he was alone and lonely because his folks travelled to Egypt on vacation. Because we were at the verge of writing our finals, he was excluded from the vacation. According to him, he was devastated and didn't feel like being alone. He said he'd be very happy if I could dress in drag and come to his house at nine in the night. I was only too glad to accept.

As a closeted gay guy, I was too happy to oblige. I had all sorts of imaginations crowding my head. Just the two of us alone in an empty house? Perhaps my dreams of having Danya were about to come true. If only he knew how many times I wanked myself to sleep thinking of his flat tummy, strong , flexed biceps, six-pack pecs and the ample bulge he used to sport in his speedo at the swimming pool, it would make his chiselled cheeks blush crimson red. I could just watch him strutting around like a jungle lion and my cock would become painfully hard. Countless times I had to use my books to hide my erection at the sight of him.

I chose a red, silk mini dress with black fishnets. I didn't want to dress like the bunny in Bridget Jones Diary or the bunny in Legally Blonde. It's such a cliche. I took my elder sister, Irina’s makeup kit and tried my best to look like a version of Kylie Jenner. I donned my favourite blonde wig inspired by Wendy Williams. The result was absolutely amazing. I was transformed into a gorgeous French chanteuse. I took my dad's overcoat and hid my appearance. I didn't want to attract unwanted attention. Thankfully my folks were out at the theater.

I hurried to Danya's beautiful duplex near the old church. Outside the corridor, I dropped my overcoat and rang the doorbell. I heard his unmistakable deep voice answering “Come in!”. I glided dramatically into the dark room. After a few seconds, the room was flooded with lights and that was when I saw that I was at the epicenter of a crowded room. The laughter, guffaws, cat calls and jeers were too much to bear. Shock, confusion and despair had me rooted to the floor wishing I could disappear into thin air. Phone cameras flashed and shock mirrored on my face made me look comical.

I turned back and ran all the way home. My ears ringing with the reverberation of the noises made by Danya and his friends. I hated the prospect of being in viral social media channels and the cynosure of eyes at school. Back at home, I locked myself in my room and cried all night like a baby. My mom must have heard my sobs when they returned and she knocked on my door, gently asking if I was okay. I merely mumbled a Yes incoherently. That was the worst night of my life. To be so humiliated was something more that I could bear. I just wanted the night to linger and the morning never to appear.

The next day, I refused to go to the church. On Monday, I reluctantly went to school, dreading the snide remarks, gossips and glaring looks. I walked slowly to school. At the school entrance I met Danya looking dejected and sad. “Dima, I am very, very sorry. I don't know what got into me to pull such a fast one on you. Please would you ever forgive me?” he said appealingly. The anger, fear and my vow to exact my pound of flesh suddenly dissolved as I looked squarely at those penetrating blue eyes. He really looked downcast. He then slowly smiled apologetically. I got goosebumps. I was weak at the knees. “I …why…” I tried to talk but I didn't know what to say. “Please say you forgive me. I promise to do anything you want me, just to pay back. What I did was wrong especially seeing it on TikTok -” “On TikTok!? I was horrified with mortification. “Some of the dudes thought it was funny…but I promise, I'll make sure they bring the posts down”. He said confidently. Talk about the internet, never forgetting. I swallowed hard. I was conflicted. Quietly, I turned back and hightailed home. I was full of rage, sadness and I plotted for my revenge but a silent voice deep inside told me to forget and move on. What was done was done. That wasn't the end of the world after all. I was consoled by the fact that after a few days, the buzz would blow over as something else would become viral.

Later in the night, our doorbell rang and from my room, I heard my dad answering the door. I heard voices but I could make out the voice of the visitor. A soft knock on my bedroom door and my dad said, “Dima, your friend is here for you,” and I heard him walking back to the living room as I wondered who that friend was.

“Coming!” I retorted. I was not in the mood for any “friend”. I was still stewing in rage and trepidation. Slowly, my door opened and there was Dima holding my overcoat! He closed the door as slowly as he opened it and his dreamy frame leaned on the closed door. His hawkish smile was evident as he looked at me with raised brows. I was dressed only in my red thongs! He saw the shock and embarrassment on my face but didn't aver his gaze. I quickly grabbed a toweling robe and hid my semi-nakedness.

“Oh, I thought you said “come in” I am very sorry,” he said, trying hard not to laugh.

“What do you want? How dare you follow me home to torment me!” I said angrily.

“I brought back your coat,” he said. “Wow! I never knew you could be so mad! Clearly you'd been hiding that part of you, which I find really exciting!” I didn't know if he was mocking me or trying to be funny.

“Dima, I can't forgive you for humiliating me! What ever did I do to deserve this? I had nothing but love for you since we were kids- “ I ranted madly.

What do you say, he asked a bit incredulously.

“I- I “ I spluttered.

He crossed the room in one go and before I knew what I was wrapped in a bear hug.and his soft mouth descended on mine. He kissed me! At first it was soft and it became rough. It was a hungry kiss that made my head swirl dizzily like a merry go round. I closed my eyes and melted pliantly in his embrace. My male member quickened like a rock and I felt his own hardened through the fabrics of his shorts.

He was a great kisser. His assertive lips propped and I was jolted with a new wave of desire washing all over me. I had never been kissed before but I could tell he was no neophyte in the art of kissing. He flexed his pelvis and ground against mine with such urgency. The kiss was so delicious that I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. His nose pressed against mine and his well trim beards grazed against my smooth face. I loved everything about that moment, never caring if any member of my family could walk in on us. I was past caring, only relishing in the taste of this he-man.

We broke off the sensuous kiss and reluctantly disengaged. I looked at him with confusion written all over my face. "Ive been wanting to do that for a long time,” he said raggedly. "Maybe one day when your folks aren't home we could do more,” he whispered. With that he turned around and gently closed the door behind him. Almost immediately my sister burst into my room without a knock.

“Dima! My crush smiled at me! “ She said breathlessly with her cheeks both red and all. She was engrossed in her excitement and she failed to notice my arousal. I quickly hid it from view and simply smiled at her. If only she knew!

What should I do? I asked myself for the umpteenth time. As I lay awake that night, I could not sleep. I could still smell Danya. I could still feel the weight of his erection pressing against mine. The taste of his lips was still lingering as I swirled into a reverie of bliss. I could foresee a future of a zestful romance brewing. The prospect was too overwhelming. Much later, I drifted into a dream filled with kisses by roses.