Gay Sex Stories - Page 137

Jeff, an athelete, with handsome looking face of long muscular hands that could grab a whole reproductive organ of a man, he is tanned, hazel nuts eye. Both of hunks are 18 and they are going to their national service soon, thus, both strangers went to the gym together.
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the fact that he was 23 years old, and an Italian cugine from Staten Island kept more than the merchandise he was buying on my mind, but I didn't think anything would come of it, since from all reports, he was a real straight arrow. Nice Guy, I was gonna make a play for him. I made a big deal about one gay computer service I'm on, and finally maneuvered him into asking what was on it.
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From where i come from you don't really see that many people on the streets after dark. I finally ended up with a hotel room close to Grenwich village; a place that i finally thought i could find a safe haven in the gay lifestyle. I checked into room 934 so i could grab a shower, something i needed more than anything at the moment.
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The trip there had been exciting - getting my first passport, changing planes in JFK airport in New York, seeing Manhattan from the air as we circled around to land. Then the real treat: they put me up in the front of the plane all the way from New York to Milan, because they needed my single seat in economy for two people traveling together. I didn't sleep a wink.
3.9 encounters

Back in the mid-west town where I grew up, there was no such thing as peep show booths. Yet there I was, walking the streets of downtown San Diego, my cock drooling and the need to jack off. I stepped inside and instantly smelled the disinfectant. As I put my dollars in the token machine I began to second guess if my aroused state was worth being there. No matter.
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But on the inside he knew he was not true to himself, since school and even now he was always felt different. Although he had slept with countless women a fantasy had always been at the back of his mind that he was at odds with, he fantasised about sleeping with a man.
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We started talking but by this point I was in a really bad mood and not very talkative, and I explained this to him and said that he sounded nice and that I would like to talk to him again but I was going to sign off now. So I offered him my email and my chat screen name so he could keep in contact, but then he tells me he doesn't have a computer and that he's at a friend's house.
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We get along very well and often joke that if he were gay, we'd be a couple. He's a hot guy in my eyes, mid 30s, 6 foot, 180, very hairy chest and belly (slight beer belly), doesn't work out but plays sports and has an average build. One night we went to a party and got rather drunk, because his place was within walking distance and neither of us could drive he invited me to spend the night.
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I had the weekend to myself, so I went to a small town just south of where I lived at the time. The year was 1962. I had been to the Grey Hound Bus terminal, read amongst the writings on the wall of another bus terminal in town, by a major hotel, where the action was hot and heavy, and quiet. I loved quiet ! So I went there with high hopes, and a hot piece of man-meat hungry to be sucked.
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The year was 1947, a time of a real housing shortage. This ensured that Fisher's apartments were always tenanted. To be fair, his rents were cheap but the apartments really needed a great deal of money spent on them. The landlord, a big man in his early fifties, was busy knocking on the door of Apartment 102. Julie Grace looked frightened when she saw the unwelcome visitor.
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